The Goal
by joeyf3271
Summary: Both twenty-one years old, Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Naberrie are students at Boston University, and they couldn't be anymore different, even if they tried. Padmé Naberrie is a political science major and Anakin Skywalker is a mechanical engineering major and star college hockey forward and captain with his eyes set on becoming an NHL hockey player. This is an Anidala modern AU!
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** **The Goal**

 **Rating:** **This begins as T but will be M rated soon enough for language and adult situations like sex and plenty of it.**

 **Characters:** **Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Naberrie (there will be plenty of others, both OC and from the SW universe but they are the main characters)**

 **Genre:** **Modern AU, College, Romance, Drama, Family, Adventure**

 **Summary:** **Both twenty-one years old, Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Naberrie are students at Boston University, and they couldn't be anymore different, even if they tried. Padmé Naberrie is a political science major with her eyes set on being a lawyer, and Anakin Skywalker is a mechanical engineering major and star college hockey forward and captain with his eyes set on becoming a professional hockey player in the NHL. Both want** ** _completely_** **different things, but they say that opposites attract, right?**

 **Author's Note:** **This is a modern college AU, at least it will start that way but I'm going to flesh it out well beyond that. This is also an Anidala story and I hope you enjoy it! This will be in the first person, present tense pov shifting between Padmé and Anakin between chapters.**

 **Before the story, I want to give a shout out to my beta, who wishes to remain anonymous. Thanks for all of your help! You're awesome!**

 **The Goal: Chapter 1**

* * *

 _ **Padmé Naberrie**_

I hate being late. Seriously. I do.

I _especially_ hate being late to the first day of class for the new fall semester, but it couldn't be helped. I wish I had a good excuse for it, some good reason like car trouble or that I got lost around campus, but I drive a Vespa Moped in the warmer months, _and_ I'm a senior. I know my way around campus. So, neither excuse will work today.

Bummer.

The truth is that I was waiting in line at the coffee shop because I can't go to my first class without iced coffee, and _apparently_ many other students are in the same boat, because _all_ I saw was wall to wall Boston University shirts and hats. Perfect, just perfect.

So, here I am, _finally_ waltzing into class, trying to be suave about it, with the professor's annoyed, narrowed eyes on me and me not paying her any mind, as I sneak to the back of the room and take a seat at the desk in the far back corner.

I'm a little relieved when nobody else in class bothers to even look my way. Whew! I lower my bag to the floor, set my iced coffee on my desktop, pull out my reading glasses and place them on my nose, and pull out my laptop and start it up, as the professor takes introductory roll call, and apparently she wants us to announce our year, major and something about us that most people wouldn't know... or something along those lines.

Fine. I can do that. I continue typing away on my laptop, getting ready to take notes when I hear my name called.

"Padme Naberrie."

Professor Yu says my name and glances around the class expectantly, and I raise my hand, earning a frown from her. "Senior, Political Science, and...I like to bake." The Professor nods her head and moves on down her list as I sag down into my hard metal seat. I frown and shake my head at myself. "Shit. That was fucking brilliant," I mutter to myself.

 _Really Padmé?_ I scold myself _. Bake? Is that the best you can do?_

"Anakin Skywalker."

As the professor calls out the most well known name on campus, a deep husky baritone voice answers her and washes over me like warm honey on a crisp cool day, and my head turns to my left in shock to face the owner of that sexy voice, and all the other heads in class turn, too. I didn't even notice him when I sat down. But, I sure notice him now. "Senior, Mechanical Engineering, and outside of hockey, I like to go hiking. It helps clear my head and gets me in the zone."

The mention of hockey instantly reminds me of just _who_ he is. I may not be a fan of the sport, or most sports for that matter (though I do love swimming and other water sports), but its hard not to know the stars of the school's hockey team, and he is the biggest one of all. Anakin Skywalker, the Terriers Captain. Beautiful voice or not, I'm not interested in ever getting together with a hockey player - or any athletic player of any kind, for that matter. I see how they are around campus, a different girl almost daily attached to their arm, and I prefer not becoming just another one of their conquests, thank you very much.

I have too much self respect for that.

With roll call over, the professor begins class, and I start typing in notes here and there. But, a warm tingly feeling works its way down my spine, like I'm being _watched,_ and I can't help but peer to my left where it seems to radiate from. And, sure enough, I find the culprit. Anakin Skywalker is leaning back in his chair, completely _ignoring_ the lecture, one elbow propped on the desk, his hand rubbing his chin, and he is unabashedly staring right at _me,_ his eyes sweeping me slowly...ever so slowly from head to toe, with a half smile on his gorgeous face. I feel my eyes widen slightly, and I swallow, _hard,_ and I am shocked to feel butterflies in my stomach! My pulse is starting to pound, and I notice my breath comes a bit faster...Well, not just because he's giving me the look-see, but I'm woman enough to admit it...He may be a player and totally off-limits as far as I am concerned, but that doesn't mean I can't look at a fine specimen of manhood.

And a fine specimen he _is._

He is hot, like _insanely_ hot, maybe the most gorgeous man I have _ever_ laid eyes on. He's big, too, massive really...maybe around six feet two (making me feel...surprisingly even _more_ dainty and feminine), and he definitely works out, that much is a given though since he's a hockey player. His muscular forearms are tanned, the veins popping out of his golden sun kissed skin, and I have the sudden urge to trace his veins with my fingers. Using my eyes instead, I follow them up to his biceps, and oh lord, I probably couldn't wrap both my hands fully around them, and that is without him flexing his huge muscles. They even look like they're going to rip his short sleeve Terriers shirt with the way his sleeves are stretched to the maximum, one more little centimeter or a simple flex of his muscles, and I'm sure his sleeves would rip and if that thought doesn't turn me on...

 _Get a hold of yourself, Girlfriend._

My eyes though refuse to listen to my brain, and they dip south instead to look at his faded jeans, and the way they caress his big muscular thighs looking like they're about a size too small with how big his thighs are. With how big _he_ is, I am surprised he can move as gracefully as he can, but being a hockey player like he is, I am sure coordination is something he learned to master long ago. He _owns_ his flawless skin and is clearly comfortable in it.

Oh yeah, he's a hunk, and what's more... _He knows it._

The professor keeps droning on about something...Uh, what class is this again? It's starting to feel like Anakin Skywalker 101 instead of...whatever it was supposed to be.

My eyes continue to take in his profile working their way up to the face that is literally the recruitment poster for the school and that face... is _still_ staring at _me_. His expression is amused, one of his dark golden eyebrows are raised, his sky blue eyes lock onto my own dark brown ones, and they're laughing at me in a _you're busted_ kind of way, and suddenly I dart my eyes back to the safety of my laptop screen and take a deep breath to try and slow down my racing pulse. It feels like I just ran a marathon, my palms are sweaty, sweat is trickling down my back and beading out on my forehead and my heart is beating so fast that it feels like it's trying to break out of my rib cage.

I've _never_ felt like this before, and I mentally scold my body for betraying me in such a way. He's a player, on _and_ off the ice. He's _always_ with a new girl, and they tend not to last very long. Honestly, he goes through women like babies go through diapers it seems like. He may look like an Ancient Greek god- oh yeah, _that's_ what this class is! Ancient Greek History!-but he's the devil incarnate, luring in unsuspecting females with his warm honeyed voice, beautiful golden hair, cerulean blue eyes, and gorgeously tanned muscular body, making _their_ bodies betray them like mine is doing to me now.

So not fair.

But, _damn_ if it doesn't feel _right_. I cannot tell a lie. Sure, I would like to experience a night with him, just one and done. No attachments and no heart break. One good fuck and then walk away. His... _skills_ in bed are well known around campus, dare I say 'legendary?' More than once, I've overheard him referred to as a sex god by some swooning females who have obviously experienced those skills firsthand, and that doesn't surprise me one bit with a body like his. He is the epitome of raw virile manhood, and he fully owns it, and he isn't afraid to flaunt what he has, and if I were him, I wouldn't be afraid too either.

Still not fair, though.

However, there is _one_ big problem with that and that is...Well, I am still a virgin, and I wouldn't want to lose my virginity like _that, y'know...just another conquest._ Yeah, he may be an Ancient Greek god reincarnate, like Ares, but that is a price that is a little too high for me, and I'm not willing to just hand it over for one simple meaningless hookup.

Oh, it may be one to remember for sure, but you only get one V-card in your life, and I'm saving _mine_ for the first guy who I feel earns it, for the man I really _love._ No, I'm not _intentionally_ waiting for marriage to lose it or anything like that, (although, if that ends up being the case, so be it), but I want it to be memorable and mind-blowing, two things I'm _sure_ he can give me, but I also want it to be special...not just an act of the flesh, but more so an act of the _heart._ Me giving something I can only give once to a man I'm deeply in love with...and who I know loves me just as deeply in return who will respect and honor such a gift. But, like I said, I'm _not_ looking to be one of his trophy conquests, just another notch on his belt, so to speak, and I'm _not_ the hook up kind of girl, even if it might make life easier, because I'm not here looking for love either.

The professor finally ends class about ten minutes early, and I save my notes and close my laptop putting it back in my bag, take off my glasses and put them up in my bag as well, and stand up...to smack right into a solid wall. Ouch!

A solid wall of man.

A solid wall of big muscular man.

A solid wall of _Anakin Skywalker._

I don't have to look up to know its him. We both must've stood at the same time, and he is easily the biggest guy in this class. Walking into him though felt like walking into a Mack truck, it literally knocked my breath out of me. His hands grip my arms to steady me, his big muscular calloused hands, yet so tender on me like he is aware of our immense size difference and doesn't want to accidentally hurt me.

Is that an electric shock I feel racing up my arms from where his skin touches mine?!

Finally deciding to look up at him, our gazes meet and his once sky blue eyes are now a dark and stormy blue that burn into mine. We're close enough for me to see the faint golden stubble along his strong chin and glints of the golden sun shining off his dark blonde hair. He wears it cut short, and thick clusters of it spike up in the front and along the top. One side is a bit flattened like he just rolled out of bed and came straight here, but I know that isn't true because he smells _fantastic_ \- like pine trees and crisp, clean, fall air. It makes me wonder if he was going for one of his hikes to clear his head before coming here. The smell makes me want to lean in even _closer_ to him and get another whiff of it, but I manage to get a hold of myself and hold his steady but penetrating gaze which makes me feel like he's reading my mind or something.

Boy, _that_ would be embarrassing.

It feels like hours fly by, _both_ of us just standing here in awkward silence, but surprisingly, it doesn't feel uncomfortable at all. _He_ makes me feel like we've known each other all our lives, and we never even laid eyes on each other before this class. That's a... _strange_ (but not unpleasant) sensation.

Finally, he talks, his warm honeyed baritone making me want to hear him talk all day, but his words throw a wrench in that.

"Are you done checking out my chest?" He waggles his eyebrows, clearly enjoying himself immensely at _my_ expense. "I know it's sexy as hell, I mean it is _me_ we're talking about, but I got another class to get to."

My face must be on fire, I can _feel_ my cheeks burning. As my blush heats up before him, the jerk has the utter nerve to grin and to wink at me! Asshole. My heart _thumps_ - _thumps_ against my rib cage trying to make an escape, my legs feel like jelly underneath me wishing there was a trap door below me that would open and swallow me whole.

It would, at least, be far less embarrassing than _this._

Making a decision, I smoothly step to the left, closer to the wall to allow him freedom of movement- freedom of movement of which I _hope_ he uses to get as far away from _me_ as humanly possible.

"I'm looking forward to round two on Thursday, Miss Naberrie." He winks again at me, as he makes his way down the row of desks towards the door. I don't move, and he doesn't turn around as he leave with a challenge thrown back over his shoulder. "I'm kinda disappointed you caved so soon. I thought you'd provide a challenge, I guess I thought wrong." And, with his gauntlet thrown down, he practically sashays out the door, all swagger and bravado.

What a _total shithead!_

A challenge? Oh really? He wants a challenge, huh? Someone who will put his arrogant ass back in place? I'm not sure I could do that. I mean never in my life had I been rendered speechless. Until now. This is a first for me, and I definitely don't like it.

 _Stop lying to yourself, you love it._

No, I don't. My subconscious may think otherwise, but _he_ just proved how much of a player and an ass he really is. How many other women did he flirt with this morning? How many other women did he challenge like that? He's an athlete, a competitor. Everything is a game to him. And, if he thinks I'm a pushover like all of his other _conquests_... that I'm so easy to win over, well... he's got another thing coming.

 _Challenge accepted, Skywalker._

This may be a game to him.

But, not to me... and he's going to find _that_ out real quick.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I've always been a fan of modern AU's, especially when they're Anidala stories and taking place in college. This is my take on a modern Anidala college AU and I hope you enjoyed it.

Anakin's chapter will be next and will run concurrent with this chapter. We'll see what he thinks and feels about Padmé. We'll also be introduced to an OC who will be a pretty big character going forward as Anakin's best friend, teammate and roommate.

Please follow, favorite and review! Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

**The Goal: Chapter 2**

* * *

 _ **Anakin Skywalker**_

It's nine-thirty on Tuesday morning, the day after Labor Day, and the first day of the new semester. My first class this morning is at ten-ten, giving me forty minutes to get there. I check my pockets to make sure I've got everything I need before heading out; I do. My cell phone is secure in my pocket along with my wallet and keys. I pull my keys out of my pocket, exit my room, and walk out of the house and over to my motorcycle parked in the driveway.

She's a beauty, if I may so myself.

Mostly custom made by yours truly, I found her rusty old frame in a junkyard when I was a young teen and asked my step-dad to buy her for me for my birthday. He did, and ever since then, I've fixed her up by buying or finding new parts and upgrading her whenever I could. _Nobody_ would be able to guess her model, she's all modified under the hood- so to speak and even in her appearance.

Starting her up, she roars to life under me. There's nothing quite like riding a motorcycle... _Well,_ I grin mischievously, there are other _activities_ that are quite a lot like it, but still, nothing is as freeing, thrilling, or relaxing as _riding_ a motorcycle. I throw my helmet on and snap the buckle in place, pull out of my driveway and ride towards campus.

Campus is only ten minutes away with the normal traffic, I'm there in no time and parking in the student lot. _Every_ student that goes here must be here already, dammit. I can't even see any available spots, and that's _exactly_ why I like riding my motorcycle. She's small enough where I can just _squeeze_ her into a tight spot, and that's exactly what I do.

My Harley gets many appreciative stares, and that's _before_ they even realize who _I_ am. When they see me, the stares become even more appreciative and some even filled with awe. Only the young freshmen haven't a clue who I am, but they'll learn soon enough. Everyone always does.

There really isn't a student on campus that doesn't know _who_ I am. It's kinda hard not to know _Anakin Skywalker_ , Captain of the Division I Men's Ice Hockey Team- Captain of the Boston University Terriers. Star Forward who's been scouted by NHL scouts and has been pushed by many of them to put myself up for the NHL Entry Draft...which I've refused to do time and time again. Don't get me wrong. I _want_ be an NHL player, but I want to live the college life to its fullest also, and I don't think I'm quite ready to be playing for an NHL team just yet. I also promised my mother that I'd get a college degree before pursuing my dreams. Once I became scouted though and scouts talked to her, she released me of my promise and told me to follow my heart.

That's exactly what I did and decided to stay true to my promise, even if she released me of it. If hockey doesn't work out for me or God forbid, I get a career ending injury, I want something solid to fall back on and _not_ have to go back to school to get it. This way, I get both. I'm considered a free agent, and once I graduate, I can reach out to my agent, and he can reach out to the teams that are still interested in me, and we can talk. Free agent status works better for me anyway; it gives me more options instead of being drafted to a team I probably _won't_ want to be on anyway. I've been born and raised here in Boston and am a life-long fan of the _Boston Bruins_. If they extend an offer to me, I'd definitely accept it in a heart beat. So far though, they haven't. Their scouts scouted me out, but that's as far as that went. It's kinda depressing to be honest. I mean, it is the _one_ team I want to be on most. Beggars can't be choosers though, and I'll honestly be happy on _any_ NHL team that lets me prove that they made the right decision by taking a chance on me.

"Nice ride," some young freshman I don't recognize says.

I nod my thanks and walk inside the building I got my first class in and head right over to the coffee stand in the lobby. The barista smiles at me flirtatiously and asks me what I'd like to order. I order a double espresso, and she quickly goes to making it. She finishes in record time and bats her eyelashes at me and asks if I'd like anything else, " _anything else at all._ " I tell her that's all and pay my tab with a five dollar bill and move on, letting her keep the change while flashing her the trademark Skywalker grin.

"Skywalker!"

I turn around knowing that voice well and see one of my roommates walking towards me, his long legs eating up the space between us in just a few seconds until he's standing right before me. "Mornin' Ryder," I grin. Wesley Ryder, my fellow student, teammate, and roommate. "Surprised to see you up and about. I thought you were still passed out in the backyard."

"Nice of you to check," he deadpans, before slapping my back in greeting. "I don't even _remember_ what happened last night, it's all a blur."

He doesn't _want_ to know what happened last night, or at least he _shouldn't_ want to know. It was too hilarious for words, but he won't hear it from me. The dude could drink with the best of us, but last night he went and got himself _totally_ shit faced. I never saw the dude so plastered in the four years I've known him.

" _That_ bad?" He moans, rubbing a big hand through his short brown hair.

I just give him a grin and squeeze his shoulder. "Nothing you haven't done before, y'know...whipping it out and flashing your junk for every male _and_ female to see. Seriously, I thought you were going to lose it the way you were whipping it around. Would've thought you were a pirate or something."

In reality, it was _nothing_ like that. Seriously. He just passed out. It was utterly pathetic. But, I'm more than happy to let him believe he acted like a complete nut, it'd be more believable than passing out stone cold drunk in the backyard after drinking a measly three shots. I mean, _come on!_ We're seniors for crying out loud. We drank more than that in freshman year and lasted a hella lot longer than _three_ shots. Still, the dude is by far my best friend, and I won't judge him for passing out _way_ too early into the night. We did have a pretty hardcore weekend after all, hitting the ice on our own time and practicing like we always did throughout our time here at BU, and that was always until we couldn't skate anymore or our legs would've given out underneath us. You can never get enough practice, especially not when you attend college full-time, work, and play hockey. There's only so much time in the day, after all.

We chat for a couple of minutes about our plans for later and then go our separate ways, having two different classes, and I walk into mine and settle down in a seat in the back row, pulling out my Mac. I prefer going about unrecognized when I can. It may be pretty damn sweet to be me, a winner of the Hobey Baker Award and the team captain of a seven-time National Championship hockey team, but it can also be pretty tiring when I want some peace and quiet- _anonymity,_ and I can't find it anywhere except for my own room.

And sometimes not even _there_ because of my rowdy roommates.

My classmates start wandering in and many of them recognize me and give me a slight, hesitant nod of the head in greeting. I nod back and pull up _ESPN_ on my laptop and browse through the latest news. As a kid, I always watched _ESPN_. I was literally _addicted_ to it. It didn't even really matter the sport: baseball, football, basketball, soccer, lacrosse, and of course, hockey. I played them all. I was a pretty well rounded kid, athletically speaking, but no sport was ingrained in my blood quite like hockey was. I lived it, breathed it. Just skating on the ice is a beautiful feeling. It's a form of art. Not many people could skate, let alone move like we can on the ice for the puck, trying to score a goal while being pursued by guys of sometimes equal or greater skill. It's quite thrilling, really.

Just like riding a motorcycle, it's thrilling, freeing, and relaxing, even if I get checked into the boards from time to time.

The class quickly begins filling up, and then it's ten-ten and the professor begins class. Professor Yu is said to be one of _the_ toughest graders here at BU. She's an older woman that the Skywalker charm probably won't work on. I'm not one to get my way out of projects or to sleep my way to getting a better grade just because I'm a hockey player and extremely good looking, but even if I was, it wouldn't work on _her_ or on the TA since there isn't a TA in this class. I may not cheat or sleep my way through my classes, but there are some that don't believe it because of the great grades I get, especially since I am on the Dean's List. What they _don't_ get is that just because I'm a hockey player, a _jock_ \- doesn't mean I'm not smart. Sure, I don't broadcast my intelligence, but that doesn't mean I don't try and do my best in _all_ of my classes. If hockey doesn't work out for me, a four-point-oh GPA should help me find a pretty sweet job with my bachelors degree in mechanical engineering.

"I'm going to take attendance. When I call your name, I want you to raise your hand and then state your year, major and something random about yourself that most people wouldn't know." The prof demands.

Just as she begins to go through the list, the the door opens. A small feminine figure enters and looks around quickly for a seat and then darts towards the back, taking a seat next to me. She doesn't even look my way, just puts her messenger bag down next to her, sets her iced coffee down, pulls out a pair of dainty looking glasses and places them on her nose, then pulls out her laptop. The professor begins calling the names, and my classmates respond, but I don't hear a word they say. Too enthralled am I in the small woman sitting to my right.

I can't see her face, just her profile, but I _like_ what I see. A _lot._ She's short, maybe five-three or four? She's about a hundred or so pounds, small enough that I'd probably break her in half- on _accident_. Her scent wafts over to me and wraps around me, smelling like the exotic flowers of her perfume- or is it her natural scent? She's wearing casual clothes, faded blue jeans that wrap around her slender legs with holes at her knees and tan suede clogs on her feet, and a short white t-shirt showing off her slender, beautiful, pale arms. She has a gauzy looking scarf in a peach, mint green, and white pattern wrapped around her neck. She has on a silver looking slender watch on her left wrist, and small silver hoop earrings in her ears. Her dark brown hair flows freely down her back, about halfway down, and I find myself wanting to wrap my fingers through her hair to feel if it's as silky soft as it looks.

"Padmé Naberrie."

The late comer raises her hand and speaks, and her voice is _mesmerizing_. "Senior, Political Science, and... I like to bake." She blushes, her face scrunching up at her own response. It's cute, the way her forehead creases, eyes widening slightly behind her glasses, and her cursing under her breath. If I didn't like her before, which for the record, I _did,_ then I'd _definitely_ like her now. The prof continues on and then calls my name.

"Anakin Skywalker."

All eyes fall on me, from both people who _did_ recognize me and from those who _didn't,_ but at least know my name. You can't be a BU student and not know my name, at the _very_ least. I raise my hand, even though it's not really necessary seeing as how even the professor was looking at me when she said my name.

"Senior, Mechanical Engineering, and besides playing hockey, I like to go hiking. It helps clear my mind and gets me in the zone."

The prof nods and continues on, the beautiful woman next to me turns to look at me and blushes when I catch her. Pink taints her cheeks, and she curses under her breath again as she tries to focus on anything and _everything_ but me. I don't let that deter me. I keep looking at her, checking her out, and I _do_ like what I see. Very much. She _knows_ I'm looking at her, too. I'm not trying to be subtle about it. And, I'm liking the affect it has on her. She's blushing, and it's cute. She's also trying her damnedest _not_ to give in to my gaze, which is amusing. I really wonder how long she could hold out before she caves. Seconds? Minutes? The _whole_ class period?

It turns out to be the latter. Impressive. The prof dismisses us, and we're all packing up and leaving class. My laptop is still opened up to _ESPN_ and my word document is as blank as Padmé's face, as she goes about packing up and trying to leave before she has to look my way. I grin and close up my Mac and store it in my bag. Turns out that her deliberately ignoring me isn't going to work out. We stand at the same time, and she walks face first into my chest. I reach out to steady her with my hands. Her skin is as silky soft as I imagine her hair is, and I find myself wanting to feel the rest of her, too. Her face heats up, going redder than a firetruck. I make no movement to go, as I sling my backpack over a shoulder and smile, looking down at her petite form. Nobody can say she's a quitter, most women- especially on _this_ campus, would've dropped their panties by now, but to her credit, she looks like she'd rather throw on a snowsuit than do _anything_ with me.

It's a bit perplexing. What does she have against me? I _never_ even met her before this class.

When she still makes no attempt to move, I decide to make the first move. And that is by clearing my throat. It works, as she shakes her head and peers up at me with beautiful dark chocolate brown eyes. I can tell right away she's not wearing _any_ makeup, and truthfully, she doesn't need it. She's gorgeous without it...and truthfully, I actually prefer it when women _don't_ wear a lot of makeup anyway. I'm intrigued.

I greet her with my trademark grin and try to lighten the tension between us. "Are you done checking out my chest?" I waggle my eyebrows, enjoying myself immensely at her expense. "I know it's sexy as hell, I mean it is _me_ we're talking about, but I've got another class to get to." If there was a secret trap door in the room, I'm sure she wishes she was standing on it. We're standing so close I can _feel_ her heart _thump_ - _thump_ against her rib cage. Her carotid artery looks like it's about to explode, and her face is turning brighter and brighter red as the seconds roll on. Finally, much to my... _displeasure_ , she stands aside, allowing me to move without running over a lilliputian. Honestly, I was enjoying our stand off. It was almost like a face-off, something I rarely lose.

I'm nothing if not a competitor.

"I'm looking forward to round two on Thursday, Miss Naberrie." I wink, as I make my way down the row towards the door. She doesn't move, and I don't turn around as I leave her with a challenge. "I'm kinda disappointed you caved so soon. I thought you'd be a worthy competitor. I guess I thought wrong."

I'm also nothing if not a button-pusher or complete asshole. _Maybe_ both? Whichever floats your boat. I smirk as I head out the door and down the hall.

Next class is only two floors below this one, and I make my way there with two minutes to spare and take my seat. It's way less entertaining than my first one, and much less of a challenge. Two puck bunnies corral me the second I sit down and try to flirt with me. Being the big flirt I am, I flirt right back but make no plans or promises, as my thoughts are... _elsewhere._

It's rare that a woman catches my eye, like Padmé Naberrie. So rare, in fact, I can't recall _ever_ feeling quite like _this_ before. Even her name is beautiful. It definitely fits the beholder. Her parents named her right. They also created one hell of a beautiful woman. She looked perfect in her V-necked white t-shirt, scarf, and tight blue jeans. She could probably pull off wearing a trash bag though, to be honest. Padmé Naberrie. She doesn't leave my mind as class ends, and I make my way across campus towards Agganis Arena for practice.

My teammates surround me as we enter the Arena and their conversations drown out my thoughts.

We file into the locker room, change into our gear, secure our helmets on our heads, grab our sticks and head on out towards the rink. The frigid air freezes me to the core before I start skating around the ice and begin warming up.

All thoughts of Padmé Naberrie leave my mind and the only thing I focus on is the task at hand. Nothing gets me in the zone like hockey, it's my life and I'm not about to let any lilliputian change that.

No matter how hot she is.

Of course, after practice, all bets are off...only she doesn't know that yet.

But she will.

I grin wickedly and put in my mouth guard and take off for center ice, ready for practice to start.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Let the games begin...

I hope you are ready for a long, bumpy and fun ride because this'll be a long one. Padmé always knew what she wanted since she was just a little girl. Anakin always knew what he wanted since he was just a little boy but what neither of them planned... was each other. Padmé is your typical good girl, while Anakin is your typical rule-breaking bad boy. Neither are looking for love, Padmé just focuses on her dreams and goals while you have Anakin who sleeps around for fun, enjoying his college years while he can.

As it turns out, the Force (or Universe or whathaveyou) has other plans for them and that is... each other. Opposites attract, right? I totally believe in that, so doesn't physics.

For the record, BU Men's Ice Hockey Team won five National Championship titles, however, in this fanfic it's seven times as will be touched on in this story. Eh, I guess it wouldn't hurt to say that in this fanfic, Anakin and his team won the last two National Championships bringing the total up to seven. If you wonder why he's so arrogant, even though he always was, even in canon, that's why. He has good reason to be, winning two National Championships and a Hobey Baker Award which is awarded to the top NCAA Division I Men's Ice Hockey Player is a good reason. A really good reason. And lastly, the NHL Entry Draft drafting process somewhat eludes me, I may be taking it in the wrong direction here, but if I am then please send me a PM to correct me. However, to my understanding and from what I read up on, a college hockey player over the age of 20 and a half years old isn't eligible for the draft but can sign an entry level contract with an NHL team which is precisely what Anakin would do.

Last note, this story will have plenty of hockey in it. We're just getting started here, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and are ready for the rest to come! Next chapter will be back in Padmé's POV and will start on their next class day, Thursday morning where we meet her roommates and best friends Dormé and Sabé.

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	3. Chapter 3

**The Goal: Chapter Three**

* * *

 _ **Padmé Naberrie**_

What a friggin' _jerk!_

 _"I'm looking forward to round two on Thursday, Miss Naberrie."_

The words are still floating around in my mind two days later, as I get ready for another day of classes. I've been trying, but unfortunately _failing,_ to get that warm, honeyed, baritone voice out of my mind.

 _"I'm kinda disappointed you caved so soon. I thought you'd provide a challenge. I guess I thought wrong."_

So am I. I mean, I'm usually _much_ better at not getting flustered or tongue-tied, or even to be rendered _speechless_ for that matter,and I'm still not sure _why_ I did exactly. Was it simply because I was caught off guard after walking smack dab into his rock hard chest, or was it because of the feeling I felt just by _looking_ at him? The same feeling I felt when he touched my arms so gently after I walked into him? Ok, I cannot tell a lie...The man is _hot,_ and I'm not blind. I can't deny I felt a surge of... _arousal_ being so close to him. _What woman wouldn't?_ I snort. Too many of them _have_ , to be quite honest. Based on _his_ reputation, he's got a string of one-nighter's behind him that would make a dozen harems look empty. I shake my head to clear it.

No. There has to be some other logical reason for why I acted so unlike myself, but I can't think of one single solitary reason off the top of my head.

 _Dammit!_

And, today is Thursday. I have to go to class and see _him_ again. The egotistical, smart-mouthed, oh-so-high-and-mighty, playboy of the ice himself. And, I have _no_ doubts he'll try a repeat performance of our last encounter. No, I need to walk in that classroom today _before_ he does and be calm, cool, and collected. He's not the _only_ one with a _'game face.'_ Oh no. And, I need to be prepared, because I have a sneaking suspicion he's going to _deliberately_ test my resolve. Asshole.

" _Hellooo_...Earth to Padmé? Can you pass me the sugar, please?"

I'm jolted from my thoughts as Dormé, one of my best friends and roomies, asks me for the sugar. We're in the kitchen, preparing breakfast, and she's pouring her first cup of coffee. Sabé, my other best friend and roommate, snorts from her chair at the kitchen table as she digs into her bagel with lox and cream cheese, "What's up with _you_ this morning, Padmé? It's like you're a million miles away or something. Anything wrong?" She pauses to take a sip of her _Earl Grey_ tea.

I haven't said anything to either of them yet about my _encounter_ with Anakin Skywalker on Tuesday morning, but as I go about making my fruit and granola Greek yogurt parfait and my cup of coffee, I realize that they may just be able to help me figure this thing out. I glance at the both of them, and they're both staring at me, eyebrows raised, a clear look of _'What's up?'_ on their faces. I sigh, grab my bowl, spoon, and my coffee mug and plop down at the table. Dormé sits down, too, with her coffee and her plate of _Eggo_ waffles.

"Well, spill it, Girlfriend. Something's eating at you this morning," Dormé says cutting into her waffles and taking a bite. Sabé nods her head vigorously in agreement, downing another bite of her bagel, before grabbing her tea and taking another sip. I sigh and shrug my shoulders, kinda embarrassed to even mention this.

"It's Anakin Skywalker. _He's_ what's bothering me."

This admission gets quite the reaction. Dormé chokes on her bite of waffle and starts coughing, while Sabé spews her mouthful of tea all over her plate. I just stare at them both wide-eyed as they compose themselves. When Dormé speaks, her voice is hoarse and shock clearly registers on her face, "Uh, excuse me? Did you just say _Anakin Skywalker,_ as in _the_ Anakin Skywalker, the star captain of the school hockey team and hot hunk extraordinaire?"

My mouth pulls into a half frown and I roll my eyes and huff, " _Yes,_ the very same."

Sabé and Dormé exchange a surprised look before Sabé clears her throat and asks, "Ok. What about him? Do you even _know_ him?"

I sigh and nod my head, "Unfortunately, yes. Or, at least, I've _met_ him. Turns out he's in my Greek history class, and his desk is right next to mine."

Dormé looks confused, "Ok. What's wrong with that?"

I roll my eyes again, but I figure I'd better explain what happened. They won't be any help if I don't. "I got to class late on Tuesday because of the super long line at the coffee shop. Anyway, when I rushed in just as the prof was taking roll call, the _only_ open seat was the one next to his, in the very back row. So, I grabbed it, and then, he spent the _entire_ class period doing nothing but staring at me! Honestly, it was totally distracting and _beyond_ annoying. Then, when class was over, we stood up at the same time, and I literally walked right into his chest, and it was like hitting a brick wall! Then, he had the utter _nerve_ to flirt with me about me staring at his ' _sexy chest'-_ his words, not mine- before practically sauntering out of the room with a wink - then, just before he walked out the door, he _dared_ to mock me for not being enough of a _'challenge'_ for _him,_ and that he couldn't wait for our _'round two'_ today! The _jerk!"_

I don't realize it, but I punctuate each of my enunciations with a sharp stab of my spoon into my bowl of yogurt. Because I was staring at my bowl while I spoke, without really seeing it I might add, as I was reliving my standoff with Skywalker again in my mind, I missed the sly smirk exchanged between my two best friends. However, Sabé's amused voice brings my gaze back up to my roommates, _"Soooo,_ sounds like he flustered your feathers, missy. Interesting. I thought you always swore to _never_ get involved with an athlete."

I frown, my voice dripping with indignation, "I admit he left me speechless with his behavior, which bothers me, yes, but I am _not_ flustered...not like _that_ anyway, and you're damn right! I don't _ever_ want to date an athlete. You know what they're like...What _he's_ like, Sabé! With _his_ reputation, it'd be shocking if he wasn't the chief shareholder in _Trojans,_ with a free lifetime supply, too. _"_ I shake my head and take a long sip of coffee. I have a feeling I'm going to need every ounce of java I can drink today.

Dormé coughs (though it sounds like a laugh) and covers her mouth, but not before I glance over and see the feral grin on her lips. Looking in her eyes, they are practically dancing with mischief. This is never a good sign, knowing _her,_ and when she speaks, I'm proven right.

"Me thinks you doth protest too much, P."

My jaw drops. _"What?"_

She grins widely, "Did I stutter? You heard me. I think that encounter bothers you so much because _you like him_. Only, you don't want to admit it."

My face suddenly flaming, I sputter, "I-I do _not!"_

Sabé chooses this moment to throw her two cents in, "Oh, I agree with Dormé. I think you _do._ I mean, come _on,_ P...You're normally unflappable, Girlfriend! So, why does this one brief encounter with this guy have you so nervous and on edge? That's not like _you_ at all." She gives me a look that just screams _Give it up, Babe, and admit it._

I furrow my brow, looking back and forth between them, "Y'know, it would be _nice_ if you guys were a _little_ more sympathetic and supportive here. _Come on!_ He's an asshole! One that thinks _way_ too highly of himself, I might add. I need to show up today calm, cool, and collected, and let him _know_ he isn't going to get the better of _me._ He might have a personal mission to bed every single female on campus before he graduates, but I will _not_ be counted in their number! If he's after a fresh conquest, he'd better look elsewhere, because _it_ _won't be me!_ Now,if you'll excuse me, I need to get dressed and head out for class. _"_

My roomies don't say anything, they just smirk at me, as I grab my coffee and push up from the table, heading for my room. I'm rather annoyed now. That wasn't the least bit helpful at all. Honestly! The very idea of _me_ being...being _attracted_ to that...that...self-proclaimed sex god! No way. I can't _possibly_ be attracted to him! The idea is ludicrous! For one thing, he's blonde, and I have _never_ been attracted to blondes before. I've always dated brunettes like myself. But, secondly, and _most_ important of all, he's still an _athlete._ Athletes and committed relationships do _not_ mix! Have you ever noticed their divorce rates?! I mean, let's be real here. They're on the road _all_ the time for away games, often far from home, and women practically _throw_ themselves at these guys constantly! The temptation to cheat on their wives or girlfriends would be entirely too strong under such circumstances surely! These are testosterone flooded males we're talking about here! I mean, you can't negate the lust factor. It's _there._

And, even though he's not a professional hockey player _yet,_ there's no doubting Anakin Skywalker has the _lust factor..._ in spades. Let's just say his reputation is _notorious,_ to put it mildly. The man's got only two things on his mind...hockey and sex. _How_ he even makes it through his classes, I do not know. _Probably sleeps his way through them,_ I can't help but think with a sniff.

I shake my head irritably, determined to put _him_ out of my mind and throw open my closet, walking in to grab an outfit for the day. It's a little cooler than it was earlier in the week, and so I grab a dark pair of dark hip hugger jeans and a black leather belt to go with them, a long sleeved, navy blue and white, horizontal striped, boat neck t-shirt, socks, and my favorite navy and white _New Balance_ sneakers. Walking out of my closet, I go over to my chest of drawers, grab clean undies and my bra, and I go about getting dressed for the day, first putting on my antiperspirant.

Once that's done and I'm dressed, I put on my silver watch, place my favorite small silver hoop earrings (a gift from my sister) in my pierced ears, put on a spritz of my favorite perfume by _Coach,_ and then I head out to the bathroom I share with Sabé, where I quickly brush my teeth, then I brush and style my hair, pulling it back away from my face with a navy blue headband, leaving my bangs against my forehead, before going back to my room and putting on my favorite black leather jacket, then finally grabbing my purse, my computer bag, and my keys. Double checking to make sure I have everything I need, I head out of my room and for the front door. I am determined to get to class today before _he_ does.

Opening the front door of the apartment, I hear _both_ of my roommates snickering in the kitchen before Dormé calls out, _"Have fun with Mr. Skywalker today, P!"_

I roll my eyes and don't bother to respond; though, I can't help muttering, " _NOT!"_ to myself on the way down the two flights of stairs to the parking lot. We live off campus on the third floor of a newer apartment building, which is nice. It's in an older neighborhood, true, but it's still a pretty nice area. We have one assigned parking spot for our apartment, and we rotate who gets it every month, and this month it's my turn. Walking over to my red _Toyota Prius,_ I unlock it, put my computer bag in the back seat, then climb in the driver's seat, put my purse down in the front passenger seat, buckle up, then start the engine, and put the car in reverse, before driving out of the parking lot and maneuvering into traffic, headed for campus. Glancing at the clock on the dash, I smirk.

I'm early. Good.

Suddenly in a _much_ lighter mood, I hum quietly to myself as I make my way through morning traffic toward campus. We don't live too far away...only about twenty minutes, and thankfully, traffic does seem a bit lighter this morning, which suits me just fine. Arriving at school, I pull into the student parking lot, and I'm lucky enough to snag a decent spot. Parking the car, I shut off the engine, grab my keys, my purse, climb out, open the back door, grab my computer bag, shut the door, then I press the lock button, causing the lights to blink and the alarm to bleep, indicating it's locked. That done, I make my way over to the building my Greek History class is in. The walk takes me about five minutes, and when I open the door to the lobby, the _wonderful_ smells wafting from the coffee bar inside assault me instantly. Smiling, I am pleased as punch to note that the line is rather short this morning. I glance at my watch. I've still got twenty five minutes until class...and looking around, there is no _Skywalker_ in sight. Good. _Very_ good.

I get in line, wait about five minutes, then it's my turn to face the smiling barista, and I quickly order my favorite large iced coffee...as well as an almond pastry, since I didn't really eat my yogurt parfait at home...thanks to my rather unhelpful roommates. Grabbing my coffee and pastry, I head upstairs to class. When I arrive, there's only about ten other students already in their seats. Still no Skywalker. I debate...do I _dare_ sit next to the _jerk_? Or, do I make a deliberate point of sitting in the front of the class today? Hmm...I click my tongue against my teeth as I mull my options over. No, I'll sit in the same seat as Tuesday, I decide and make my way down the aisle and grab the seat I had before. If I sat in the front, that would be like caving into him...almost like an admission that I'm _weak._

And, I _refuse_ to give that man the satisfaction.

Placing my computer bag on the floor next to my desk, I sit down, put my coffee down in the built -in cup holder, set my paper bag holding my pastry on the side of the desk, then I grab my Mac, set it on the desktop, open it, and power it up. I grab my blue metal rim reading glasses, put them on, then login to my computer, and pull up my notes from the last class. Reading through the notes, I grab my pastry and take a bite, slowly chewing while I review the key points the prof made on Tuesday.

So focused am I, that it's rather a surprise to me when I hear _that voice_ once again, as my newly designated nemesis plops down in the desk next to me. And, he sounds highly _amused_ at that.

"Well, well, _welllll_...Surprise, surprise, Ms. Naberrie. You managed to beat me to the punch this morning. Impressive, most impressive."

I pause mid chew and simply turn my head slowly to stare at him coolly, tilting my head down to look at him over the rim of my glasses perched on my nose. He is smirking at me, his mouth tilted in a half smile, and his cerulean blue eyes are dancing with mischief as he stares right at me. I arch my eyebrows but say nothing, and simply turn my head slowly back to my screen and take another bite of my pastry, ignoring him. His response is a low, dark rumbling chuckle, as he pulls out his own Mac and sets it on his desk, opens it, and powers it up. I notice out of the corner of my eye that he's dressed casually in faded jeans with a pair of dark brown, heavy leather, casual oxfords on his feet, and a white _Boston University Hockey_ championship hoodie sweatshirt on with the edge of a white t-shirt peaking out underneath the collar.

Even in a sweatshirt and jeans, the man _exudes_ a primal charisma that seems to pulse and fill the air around him.

And, I can't help but be dismayed as I feel my pulse start to quicken.

Taking a deep breath in through my nose, I swallow my bite and casually take a sip of my coffee, trying my _damnedest_ to just ignore him. But, I find that that seems rather hard to do. I suddenly take a sniff of the air... _What is that divine smell? Oh my God! It has to be his cologne!,_ I think to myself, and I swallow to try and cover the sudden _heat_ I feel spreading through me, and I shift in my chair, crossing my legs, uncomfortably _aware_ of him sitting so close by. I take another bite of my pastry to try and cover my unease, casually wiping a few crumbs from my chin.

"How's the pastry?"

I turn back to look at him, still chewing. He's staring at my mouth for some strange reason, his soft pink lips tilted in a little half smile. He flicks his gaze up to mine, and I watch, almost dumbfounded, as he slowly licks his lips in what has _got_ to be one of the _sexiest_ moves I've ever seen. I suddenly hear my pulse pounding in my ears, and my breath catches in my chest. It's like I've somehow forgotten how to _breathe._ Unfortunately, he seems to notice this, and his next words drip with arrogant amusement.

 _"_ What's the matter, Naberrie? See something _else_ you'd like to take a bite of?" His brilliant blue eyes are twinkling now, all cock-fired sure of himself and his assessment of the situation.

Oh, yeah. Arrogant.

 _Jerk!_

Fortunately for me, his words jolt me back to reality - and just _who_ I'm dealing with here. He wants to play, does he? Well, he doesn't know who he's dealing with, apparently, because _this_ chick gives as good as she gets.

I swallow my bite slowly, watching him with a coolly feigned tolerance. Quirking an eyebrow, my reply is simple, "No. Not particularly." Then, I turn back to stare at my laptop screen, reaching over to grab my coffee and take a sip. There's a moment's silence before he suddenly bursts out laughing. Turning back to look at him with a confused look on my face, he is stretched out in his chair, his left leg bent at the knee and his right leg stretched out straight, and he is staring straight at me, blue eyes dancing, holding the back of his right hand up against his lips, and his shoulders are _shaking_ from the force of his laughter.

I just look at him like he's the world's biggest idiot. Obviously realizing I'm _not_ going to be the one to continue this conversation, he abruptly grins and sits up and leans toward me, arms crossed and leaning on the arm rest of his desk. "Come on? Not even a little _taste?"_

He's also tenacious, apparently. It's probably part of what makes him so good at what he does...both on and _off_ the ice.

Still, I refuse to be baited.

"No. I think I'll pass."

He smirks, amused at my resistance...and tries again. Dammit. Doesn't he know how to take ' _No'_ for an answer?

"Are you _sure?_ It's a once in a lifetime treat."

Apparently, he doesn't.

Deciding two can play at this game, I set my pastry down, take my glasses off and gingerly set them down on my keyboard before I lean toward him _ever_ so slightly, my hands clasped together in my lap, and peer at him for a moment, considering my response. He seems to enjoy this, because he grins that much wider and leans even further towards me. I smile softly and tilt my head coquettishly, giving him my _best_ sultry look. It must work, because I notice his pulse is suddenly pounding at the base of his throat, he wets his lips again, and his eyes have darkened dramatically, almost matching the navy blue in my shirt. Interesting.

But, for some bizarre reason, _his_ reaction seems to augment _my own_ body's unbidden response, as I feel liquid heat suddenly pooling between my thighs and my breasts start to swell, and I notice my hands are trembling in my lap! Ugh! _No_ , this cannot be happening to me. Not because of _him!_ I know better!

My mental defenses suddenly snap back in place, and I keep that soft smile plastered on my lips, lift my right index finger, playfully motioning to him in a _'come here'_ gesture (which he _eagerly_ responds to), then using my softest, most alluring tone possible, I hit him with my best shot, "Not if my _life_ depended on it... _Slap Shot."_

For a second, he does nothing, but then his eyes widen, and his mouth drops open in apparent surprise. Then I smirk, arching my eyebrows at him, and lean back in my seat, picking up my glasses and gingerly placing them back on my nose, and turn my full attention to the prof, who has just walked into the room to begin class.

 _That'll teach him to mess with me,_ I think we smug satisfaction _,_ as I deliberately ignore him and start taking notes on my laptop.

That doesn't mean I'm _deaf_ , though, and I hear his deep rumbling laughter, as he mutters, _"Touche, Padmé,"_ before I hear his fingers begin tapping on his own keyboard.

I breathe a silent sigh of relief, _and_ give myself a firm pat on the back. Score one for me!

For the rest of the class period, nothing else gets said between us. I take notes. He takes notes (and even raises his hand and asks a pretty intelligent question, I must admit), but when the prof dismisses class, rather than risk a repeat performance of our first encounter, I deliberately take my time in wrapping up my notes, saving them, then shutting down my computer and placing it, and my glasses back in my bag. Fortunately, he didn't wait for me, and he's already standing up from his seat. But, instead of going ahead and moving down the aisle, he steps back in a gentlemanly fashion and waves for me to move forward ahead of him. I stand and look at him warily. He shoots me another wide grin and waggles his eyebrows at me, "Ladies first, Padmé."

I silently tilt my head at him in thanks, but I'm mortified at the blush I suddenly feel sweeping across my cheeks when he winks at me, and I hastily grab my purse and empty coffee cup and my computer bag and march down the aisle as quickly as my legs will carry me. I feel the pure _heat_ of his gaze penetrating my back, and I toss my head and reach up to flip my hair back over my left shoulder, as I head for the door, tossing my empty coffee cup in the trashcan by the door. I suddenly pause mid step...Did he just _groan_ behind me?

Deciding _evacuation_ is the better part of valor at the moment, I pick up my pace determinedly, but not before I hear the _faintest_ whisper in that deep husky baritone reach my ear, _"I'm not giving up, Padmé."_

We're both in the hallway now, and I stop and whirl round to face him, _"Excuse_ _me?"_

He arches an eyebrow at me, that classic challenging grin of his I am starting to recognize plastered on his face, and he shrugs one shoulder casually, his cocky arrogance firmly in place. "I think you heard me, Padmé."

He takes a step closer to me, tilting his head down at me, as if he's conceding victory to me _today,_ then he slowly sweeps his gaze over my body from head to toe _,_ and I can't help the shiver that runs up and down my spine at the _molten_ look he's giving me. When he speaks, his words are nearly a whisper, smooth and soft like warm melted butter, a promise spoken, if ever there was one,"Be ready for round three on Tuesday, Padmé, because _you_ just upped the ante, and I _don't_ like to lose."

I stand rooted to the floor, the air surrounding us seeming to _sizzle_ with tension and heat. I can't move! Just staring into his midnight blue eyes, I can see the undisguised _hunger_ there, plain as day, but I'm suddenly rendered speechless. _Again!_ And, all I can do is stare silently at him, as he tilts his head at me once more, smiles smugly, then hoists his backpack higher on his shoulder, gives me a wink, and steps around me to make his way down the hall toward his next class, a definite _swagger_ in his steps.

He doesn't look back, and I still can't move for several long moments after he disappears out of sight.

What just _happened_?

I am awash in a roiling convolution of emotions. On the one hand, I _know_ I handled myself well - for the most part - and _did_ get the better of him, which I think he acknowledged, but on the _other_ hand, I am concerned at the gauntlet he threw down before me...and at the apparent effect he has on me.

 _This is not good,_ I tell myself. Yeah,I know _that!_

My feet finally remember how to move, and I begin my trek toward my next class, Anakin Skywalker filling my thoughts. I don't pay attention to any of my surroundings as I exit the building and make my way across campus. The cool air feels good on my flushed skin and helps me to refocus.

No. Before next Tuesday, somehow, someway, I _have_ to fortify my defenses against him.

I _refuse_ to become involved with an athlete, dammit! Especially _this_ one! He's a scoundrel, and we _both_ know it.

Problem is, my _body_ doesn't seem to _care_ if he's a scoundrel or not.

I shake my head. Nope. _Not_ going there.

But, my mind whispers to me, _"Maybe you should."_

I arrive at my next class, determined to put all thoughts of _him_ from my mind.

But, I'm suddenly gripped by one terrifying thought...

What if I _can't?_


	4. Chapter 4

**The Goal: Chapter 4**

* * *

 ** _Anakin Skywalker_**

The alarm on my phone sounds _loudly_ in my ear, and I can't help groaning as I reach over and turn it off. I was up late working on some assignments that are due on Friday... _Too late_ , I think to myself with a grimace, pinching the bridge of my nose. Especially since Coach called for our first morning practice of the preseason _this_ morning. It's 6:00 am, too fucking early to get up for practice today, dammit!

Not that I normally grouse about practice. As team captain, I know all too well how important every spare second of practice can be. And, let's face it, we're in a strong conference with _high_ expectations for our team this upcoming season. We're considered a contender for the national title _again_ this year. We _need_ to practice. I just need to remember that and not push myself past my limits and stay up when I _know_ I should be sleeping.

I roll out of my bed and stand up to stretch, reaching my long arms for the ceiling, before heading to the bathroom I share with Ryder and Rex, two of my best friends. Cody's our other roommate (and Rex's twin brother) and my _other_ best friend, who was lucky enough to nab the master suite with his _own_ private bathroom. He also pays more rent than the rest of us, too. We rent this four bedroom house from a former BU hockey player, who's now a businessman who rents out the property _only_ to BU hockey team members. The four of us have been renting this house for the last three years. It's close to campus, nice and comfortable, and the best part - _affordable,_ which is all I care about.

Hey, I may be hopeful of snagging a nice NHL contract after graduation, but I'm not there _yet._

Speaking of hockey and the NHL, I won't get there if I don't get my ass to practice. I walk into the bathroom, still in a fog, shut the door, take care of my business, and then take a fast shower before hopping out, drying off, shaving really fast, then putting on a splash of aftershave and my deodorant before brushing my teeth. I walk back into my room, tossing my towel on my bed, and grab a pair of denim jeans, a belt, a white t-shirt and my white BU hockey team sweatshirt hoodie out of my closet, clean boxers out of my chest of drawers and a clean pair of socks and go about getting dressed.

Once I'm fully dressed and ready, I grab my heavy leather oxfords from my closet and put them on. Finally, I grab my wallet, phone, keys, and my helmet for my motorcycle and backpack and head on out to the kitchen, where I fix myself some scrambled eggs and toast along with a glass of orange juice. I eat quickly, and as I clean up my dishes, I hear the other guys stirring in the house, and so I start the coffee to brew for them. I'll just stop and grab a coffee at one of the coffee bars on campus on the way to the arena.

Coffee's good enough there and the baristas are always easy on the eyes. And always all over me, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I slept with probably all of them.

Not that I'm counting or anything.

I grab my stuff and head out the front door to my motorcycle, dismissing my mind that always travels either to hockey or...down _south_. And it's as I'm starting her up that I remember something...

It's Thursday.

Oh fuck. I grin wickedly. _It's time for Round Two with Miss Padmé Naberrie._

How could I have forgotten my next face off with _that_ luscious looking creature? Those mahogany tresses, gorgeous chocolate brown eyes, her petite feminine stature, that gloriously perfect hourglass figure, skin soft as silk to the touch...Honestly, she's the single _most_ beautiful woman I've _ever_ laid eyes on, no doubt about it. I also can't deny my attraction to her, despite her obvious reluctance on Tuesday to even _acknowledge_ me, which I still don't get. I mean, I'd never even _met_ her before Tuesday, and yet, when she bumped into me after class, instead of _flirting_ with me like _any_ other girl on campus would've done, she looked freaked out instead, almost like a deer caught in headlights.

It's weird, her behavior. I gotta admit, I'm not used to women responding to me like that. I have _no_ problems interacting with females. I'm a huge ass flirt, and I make no apologies for that. I'm twenty-one, charming, and incredibly good looking, and yeah, I _know_ it. If you have a problem with that, sue me. I also can't deny I use it to my advantage. What guy in my shoes wouldn't? And, I know I've got a reputation as a player - on and especially _off_ the ice, and it's not exaggerated. I've definitely earned it. Still, I've never had a woman catch my attention like _this_ before.

Padmé Naberrie may not realize it yet, but _she_ intrigues me like no other woman ever has, and I have every intention of getting to know her better. A whole _lot_ better.

Starting today.

Our Greek history class is at 10:10. Practice starts at 7:30 with a team meeting with Coach first before we hit the weight room, then the ice. I'll have time to take another fast shower after practice before heading over to class...and if I'm lucky, I'll get there _just_ before she does. Grinning ferally at the thought, I strap on my helmet and sling my backpack over my shoulders before maneuvering my motorcycle down the driveway and out onto the road and take off for campus.

This is one class I do _not_ want to miss.

Just as much as I don't want to miss practice. It wouldn't do well for the team captain to be late for the first morning practice, after all, now would it?

Nope.

* * *

I reach school not even fifteen minutes later and snag a parking spot. It's early today, most students won't roll in for at least another hour or two, depending on their class schedules. Some classes start at 07:30 while most are later, like around my time at 10:10. And that is precisely _why_ I chose a later class time. I can't miss practice.

Not in my make or break year.

No year is more important than _this_ one.

If I get hurt or play a bad year, then what team would _want_ to take a risk on me? None of them would, or if they did, it'd probably be playing for one of their farm teams, and that's something I _don't_ want to happen. No fucking way. I worked too damn hard to get to where I am in one of the most revered college hockey programs in the country.

I know I'm good, _damn_ good, and I'll show that to _all_ the scouts that come to see my team play. I'll show them that I'm worth investing in, that I'm _worth_ taking a chance on. I just hope that chance comes with my favorite team, the _Bruins._ But, I push that thought to the back of my mind. Right now, I need some coffee to help wake me up before practice. I head to a really good coffee bar, _Blue State Coffee,_ where the pretty smiling barista, Mindy, if I remember her name right, takes my order, a double espresso along with an egg, bacon, and cheddar cheese sandwich on a bagel. I pay for my order, giving her a polite smile but ignoring her attempts at flirting with me. She's a cute little thing, true, but I've already slept with her, of that I'm sure, but I can't say that I remember that night off the top of my mind. Not to mention, an image of Padmé flashes in my mind, and she's _all_ I'm focused on...at least in the female department. Which is strange for me, I have to admit, but _damn_ , other women just can't compare to Padmé. It's like she's in a class all on her own.

My order is ready, and I take my coffee and sandwich and head over to _Agganis Arena._ I make my way to the players' lounge, plop down at a table, drop my backpack on the floor next to my chair, and dig into my coffee and my sandwich, while I watch _ESPN_ on the flat screen TV, which a couple of my teammates are kicked back watching before practice. Ten minutes later, and I've wolfed down my coffee and my sandwich. I stand up, gather my trash and toss it in the nearby trashcan and grab my backpack and head out of the lounge, toward the dressing room to change into my workout clothes. This morning, Coach wants to have a preseason discussion first, briefly going over the first three games of our regular season and what we're going to be up against. We'll go more in depth about each game in the video conferencing room shortly before each of those games. But today, we'll head to the weight and strengthening room after Coach dismisses the meeting where we'll do some rotations on the various pieces of equipment, like doing bench presses and leg presses along with Russian twists and working with the dumbbells and medicine balls. It's probably not a well known fact outside athletics itself, but it could be argued that hockey players are probably _the_ most well conditioned athletes of _all_ professional sports - be it NFL, NBA, MLB, or UFC.

We _need_ to be for what we do. The very nature of our sport increases the demands on our bodies, from head to toe. And, let's face it, when you're getting slammed into the boards by another player of equal or bigger size and strength, or you get checked hard and knocked on your ass on that frozen solid surface that doesn't give _any,_ you've gotta be in tip top shape to withstand sixty minutes of _that_ kind of action.

Thus, the necessity of training...consistently, regularly, and intently. Even in the off season. There's _no_ letting up. You let up, you let down. Then you're more likely to get hurt. Simple as that.

After our weightlifting and strength training, we'll head to the locker room and suit up for on ice drills and practice. Coach has already told me that he wants me to work closely with our freshman players in preseason, teaching them some sound warm up drills to help them loosen up their hips, knees, and ankles, as well as working with them on various skating and puck handling maneuvers. As team captain this year, it's important for me to work with and teach the younger players from my years of experience. Not only that, it helps us connect as a team, builds the camaraderie and trust we need to have a successful year.

And, that's _definitely_ what we're shooting for. _Another_ successful year, capped off with _another_ national championship.

That would certainly help _my_ chances of making it into the NHL, I'm not gonna lie.

The rest of the team arrives, including my roommates, Wes, Rex, and Cody. After everyone changes out into their workout gear, the coaching staff comes in, and Coach launches right into it. He is enthusiastic about our potential for the year. He expounds on both our weaknesses and our strengths _and_ what we need to do to improve on both this season. He reviews briefly our first three games of the regular season, then he narrows our focus down on what he wants to see in practice this morning on the ice. With that done, he dismisses us, and we all head over to the weight room, and we divide up in groups, dispersing around the room to work with our trainers for an hour, doing rotations around the room utilizing the different pieces of equipment. A hockey workout makes regular cross-fit look like a cake walk, in my nothing but honest opinion. These exercises are what turn us into solid slabs of muscle - and helps us withstand the punishment that _is_ a hockey game. If we weren't as well trained and conditioned as we _are_ , you'd see a helluva a lot more injuries than you do.

After working the weights, it's time to hit the ice. We all head back to the locker room and suit up in our practice gear, grab our helmets and sticks and make our way to the rink where our coaches are waiting for us already.

Fortunately, practice goes well this morning. I worked with our freshmen players and one of our coaches on the techniques Coach wanted us to focus on. They need a little correcting here and there, but overall, they were looking good, and I told them so, giving each of them a fist bump along with words of encouragement. We moved on to do some scrimmage skating, and by the time Coach blew the final whistle, I was in dire need of a shower, a _Dr. Pepper_ and a quick hot ham and cheese sandwich, in that order. Glancing at the clock in our dressing room, I notice it's 09:30 already. Man, I gotta make this fast if I hope to beat the lovely Ms. Naberrie to the punchline. I grin ferally and dash to the shower, soaping up and scrubbing the sweat off my body with near lightning speed, before I hop out and dry off and reapply some deodorant and a spritz of cologne and get redressed in my clothes from this morning. Grabbing my wallet, phone, and backpack, I hurry from the locker room quickly, calling out a 'bye, Guys' to my teammates as I go. I should have _just_ enough time to make it to the building our class is in, grabbing a _Dr. Pepper_ from the soda machine and a hot ham and cheese from the coffee bar in the main lobby before heading upstairs to class.

I sprint across campus, then go rushing in the doors of the main lobby. I glance around quickly...but I don't see hide nor hair of my quarry. Hmm...hopefully, she's running late again. That'd give me ample time to admire the view as she dashes in the door and to her seat, and _fuck,_ what a magnificent view it _is. Just thinking about her is giving me a semi here._ Whoa, better calm it down, dude, or this could be rather embarrassing for me, no matter my player reputation. I get in line at the coffee bar, make my way to the register, order a hot ham and cheese sandwich, pay, once again ignoring the barista's flirting, no need for that when once again, I've already banged her and I head over to the soda machine in the corner and get my _Dr. Pepper,_ just as my order is called out. Cool. That was faster than usual. I walk over, get my sandwich, and sidle over to a nice comfortable squashy chair, dropping my backpack on the floor beside me, quickly downing my soda and my sandwich. It's 09:58 now. Still no sign of her. Interesting. I pop a couple of breath mints, and I head upstairs to our classroom. I walk in the door, and _fuck me!_ Well, I'll be damned! She beat me here today. Impressive. _Very_ impressive.

 _And, dammit, is she_ ever _looking hot as hell today,_ I can't help but think, as I pause just inside the doorway and admire the view.

She's already got her _Mac_ out, her adorable glasses perched on her nose, and she's intently reading something. Probably reviewing her notes from last class, I'd bet. She's so focused on her reading, she doesn't even notice me as I walk down the aisle and drop down in the desk next to hers. I slowly slide my gaze up and down her body, and once again, I have to _force_ myself not to get a semi, which is _hard_ to do...no pun intended. Okay, _maybe_ pun intended. But it's kinda hard not to get a semi when she looks so _gorgeous_ , and I really like her outfit today. She's got her hair pulled back with a navy headband, leaving her bangs draped across her forehead, the rest of her mahogany tresses are left tumbling down her back in a silken swath, and my fingers just twitch, like they're longing to wrap themselves in those waves of silk. Wanting nothing more than to feel if her silky hair is as soft as it looks. She's also wearing a really sexy black leather jacket over a navy blue and white striped shirt. Casting my gaze lower, she's wearing dark blue jeans that ride low on her hips, cinched with a black leather belt. On her dainty feet, she's wearing a pair of navy and white _New Balance_ sneakers. I resist the sudden urge to wolf whistle, but _damn,_ if she's _not_ perfection personified.

Seriously. She is absolutely _stunning._ Oh hell yeah, _definitely_ in a class all on her own.

She's munching on some type of pastry and sipping her iced coffee, and I watch her lips, mesmerized, as she wraps them around each bite of her treat and chews ever so slowly, like she's savoring the flavor of every bite. And, I'm not gonna lie...With each bite she takes, I can't help but envision her wrapping those luscious lips around something else, _ahem_ , if you know what I mean. My boxer briefs get a little tighter, obviously liking the idea of that as well and knowing _exactly_ what I mean. Talk about a daydream, man. _Shit!_ _If only!_ I smirk at the thought, and decide it's time to draw her attention.

"Well, well, _wellll..._ Surprise, surprise, Ms. Naberrie. You managed to beat me to the punch this morning. Impressive, most impressive."

I smirk, as my comment does exactly what I intended. She slowly turns her head, pauses in mid chew, and she tilts her face down ever so slightly to peer at me over the top rim of her glasses. She arches her eyebrows at me, but chooses not to say anything and just turns her head back to continue reading and takes another bite of her pastry. She's ignoring me. Or trying to at any rate. Too bad I won't let her. I chuckle deep in my throat as I pull out my own _Mac_ , set it on my desktop and power it up. I notice she's checking me out too, from out of the corner of her eye, which amuses me to no end.

As I pull up my file where my notes for this class are, I see out of the corner of my eye that she's shifted in her seat and crossed her legs. It's almost like she's suddenly antsy about something. I can't help but hope it's _me_ that's making her a bit uncomfortable, and I'm pretty damn sure she's fighting tooth and nail to ignore me, too. Amused, I can't help but watch as those succulent looking lips take another bite out of that pastry, all the while dearly wishing it was _me_ she was enjoying the taste of so much. She casually wipes some crumbs from her chin, and I decide to make a move and engage my... _opponent._ Hey, what's wrong with a little _forechecking_ in this game we're playing? I grin wickedly. This _thing_ going on between us is so intense, at least to _my_ mind anyway, it's almost like drawn out foreplay.

"How's the pastry?"

She slowly turns back to look at me, still chewing her last bite. My eyes are glued to her lips. Fuck, I want to kiss that delicious looking mouth of hers...kiss her _hard_ and _deep._ Like she's _never_ been kissed before in her life. I flick my gaze up to her gorgeous chocolate brown eyes, and I can't help licking my lips slowly, as I imagine doing just that. As I watch her, I notice _her_ gaze dropping down to my _own_ lips, and she seems to have stopped breathing for a moment. Thrilled at this first sign of _interest_ on her part, I can't stop myself from _baiting_ her with my next comment...no matter _how_ arrogant it sounds.

Hey, I told you...I am nothing if not a button pushing asshole. And, I plan on pushing _every_ button Ms. Naberrie's got.

"What's the matter, Naberrie? See something _else_ you'd like to take a bite of?" I tease, knowing full well my eyes are laughing at her.

She regards me calmly, continuing to chew her bite slowly, before she swallows, arches her eyebrow at me and simply says, "No. Not particularly." She then turns back to her computer screen, reaches over and grabs her coffee and takes a sip. Oh, she's _good!_ Her resistance to me is actually fucking hilarious, and I can't stop myself from bursting out laughing, because it's just so damn cute. I stretch out in my seat, bringing the back of my hand up to my lips, trying to hold it in, but I just can't. No other female I've _ever_ met has given me _this_ kind of reaction. Usually, women practically throw themselves at me. Ever since I hit puberty actually, I've been a chick magnet. So, truthfully, it's remarkably refreshing for a change to find a woman...especially one that _I_ feel inexplicably drawn to...to ignore me like this. Or, to _pretend_ to ignore me. Either way, my game instincts are kicking into high gear here. And, I intend to win _this_ game.

I grin wolfishly and abruptly lean over in my seat, resting my arms on the armrest, giving her my full attention, "Come on? Not even a _little_ taste

She just stares at me like I'm a complete idiot for a moment before she says, "No. I think I'll pass."

Smirking at her tenacity, I give it another shot, "Are you _sure?_ It's a once in a lifetime treat."

She pauses in eating her pastry, setting it down on a napkin next to her _Mac,_ takes off her glasses and gingerly sets them down on her keyboard, she clasps her hands in her lap and then leans toward me, and I can't help but pat myself on the back internally here. I knew it. Persistence pays off. Obviously, she just needed a little _convincing._ What can I say? Skywalker charm works _every_ time. I can't help the nearly feral grin on my face as I lean even further toward her. I'm leaning so far over now, my ass is literally clearing my seat at this point. Suddenly, she smiles at me softly, invitingly, her eyes seem to darken, and she tilts her head almost flirtatiously, her gaze seeming to burn into me, and I feel my body respond to her instantly. My heart starts hammering in my chest. I feel a fine sheen of sweat break out on my upper lip and forehead. My hands are trembling ever so slightly, and I _definitely_ feel that semi come roaring to life now. I wet my lips again eagerly, feeling my pulse pounding at the base of my throat. Fuck, am I glad I sucked on those two breath mints now. I might actually get some lip action right here before class!

Best way to start class that _I_ could think of.

As I continue to watch her, her smile turns almost coy, and she lifts her right hand and motions to me with her index finger slowly, curling it in a silent behest to _'come here,'_ which I do immediately. I mean, come _on_...I'm not an idiot. The way she's looking at me right now, the way my body is _responding_ to her right now, I suddenly don't think _either_ of us will be making our next class. And, nothing would make me happier than _that,_ I'm not gonna lie. She opens her mouth to speak, and the soft sultry sound of her voice reaches my ears..."Not if my _life_ depended on it... _Slap Shot."_

 _What the fuck?!_

I suddenly feel like I've been checked... _hard_...and sent careening into the boards before landing on my ass flat on the ice, dammit!

For a second, _all_ I can do is stare at her dumbfounded, unable to breathe, unable to move, unable to even _think._ My eyes go wide and my jaw drops open, and I'm utterly speechless. I've _never_ had this happen to me before. Ever. And, though I'm reeling, almost in a state of shock, I watch her smirk at me, arching her eyebrows in triumph, and lean back in her chair, picking up her glasses, she puts them back on her adorable nose, and then turns to face the prof who has just waltzed into class, I also can't help but admit that I am _seriously_ impressed here. With _her._ And, I am straightaway consumed by a renewed vigor, passion, and focus. On _her_. For _her._ About _her._

Hey, she bested me this go round, and I'm man enough to admit it. No woman has _ever_ done that to me before. Score one for her. Not to mention I find I actually _like_ her newfound _nickname_ for me. _Slap Shot._ Hell yeah, I like that one. A _lot._ I can't help grinning to myself either, thinking that I'd like to give her a _slap shot_...of an entirely different kind. Oh yeah, I definitely plan on _that._ Even if _she_ thinks she's won, this game is only _just_ beginning. My chance to score _will_ come. You can count on it.

A deep rumble of laughter erupts from my chest as, ceding victory to my well-matched opponent, I murmur, "Touche, Padmé." With that acknowledgement given, I turn my attention to the prof and her lecture this class, and I start taking notes myself. The rest of class flies by, and to prove to everyone in this class... _Padmé_ , in particular...that I'm _not_ as dumb as they probably _think_ I am, I raise my hand, and I ask the prof a pretty thoughtful question, which seems to take her and all the other students back for a moment, as suddenly the room goes quiet. I smirk. Yeah, that's right people. I actually _do_ have a brain. Overcoming her momentary lapse of surprise, Professor Yu acknowledges my question and launches into her answer, giving three points she expounds upon in her explanation.

Fuck yeah. Score one for _me._

Shortly after answering my question, the prof dismisses us, and I can't stop the wide ass grin from forming on my face. Time for our next face off. Sorta. Seeing as how she keeps rebuffing all of my advances (to this point anyway), I think I'll try a different tactic. Let's see how she responds to a more _gentlemanly_ approach. I quickly go ahead and save my notes and shut down my Mac, storing it back in my backpack. I can't help but notice she is taking her own sweet time in closing up her computer and putting it away. Obviously, she's trying to avoid another _run in_ with me, which amuses me to no end. I can't help smirking at the _challenge_ she presents me with. I stand up and take a step back, giving her room to stand herself. She does so, all the while casting a wary eye my way. I simply smile widely and waggle my eyebrows at her, waving for her to move down the aisle first with a casual, "Ladies first, Padmé."

She silently tilts her head my way in thanks, reaching to grab her purse, computer bag, and her empty coffee cup. I can't _not_ wink at her, and I notice, as she goes to walk down the aisle that she's got a lovely blush sweeping across her cheeks now, and I cheer internally at yet another _victory_ for me. I can't help puffing my chest out _just_ a little in smug satisfaction. Little Miss Naberrie isn't as immune to me as she likes to _pretend_ she is. That blush says plenty...even if she'd only deny it if pressed. No matter. I'm enjoying this game with her just as much - if not more so - than _any_ I've ever played before, and I have no intention, as I said before, of losing this game either.

Nope. I am anything _but_ a quitter.

She strides down the aisle before me with a determined step, flipping her long tresses back over her left shoulder as she does, and I have to bite my lip to stop myself from moaning at such a sexy action, but it draws my attention to her back, and my gaze immediately slides down her spine to her ass. _Oh fuck!_ She's got a _gorgeous_ ass, and her dark jeans are molded to her hips and backside, leaving practically _nothing_ to my manly imagination. With every step she takes, her hips sway in the most femininely provocative fashion, and my semi comes roaring back to life, instantly pressing against the zipper of my jeans. It _definitely_ likes what I'm seeing in front of me. _Hmm,_ _I don't see any panty lines,_ I think to myself, and I can't help wondering with a devilish _gleam_ in my eye if she's wearing a thong or a G-string. The sudden image of her standing gloriously naked before me, her back to me as she coyly looks at me over her bare shoulder, wearing nothing but a black lacy thong floods my mind, just as she throws her coffee cup into the trashcan and heads for the door, and I can't stop the deep groan of longing that escapes my lips. _Shit!_ I didn't mean to do that...and I think she heard me, because she seems to pause mid step for a moment...before dashing out the door at an almost mad clip. Despite my little slip up, I'm highly amused by her hasty retreat, but I remain determined...even more so...in this pursuit, and I speak loud enough for her to hear me, "I'm not giving up, Padmé"

I follow her out the door and into the hallway where she suddenly comes to a halt and whirls to face me, a somewhat shocked look on her face, as she confronts me with an almost _I beg your pardon_ tone, _"Excuse me?"_

I grin again and arch an eyebrow at her before I shrug one shoulder almost casually, "I think you heard me, Padmé." Hey, it may sound arrogant, and that's because it _is,_ but I'm just stating a fact. She _did_ hear me. I'm not going to let her pretend she didn't hear what I said when I know damn well she did. I decide it's time to turn up the _heat_ a notch or two in our little game. And, I'm going to let her know that, too. Time for a little _slap shot_ from THE _Slap Shot._ I step closer to her and tilt my head down at her just a little, sweeping my eyes ever so slowly down her body from head to toe, and I _know_ the look I'm giving her is practically molten and matches the fire I feel burning through my veins. My words come out soft and smooth as melted butter, a promise in their own right, "Be ready for round three on Tuesday, Padmé, because _you_ just upped the ante, and I _don't_ like to lose."

We stand rooted to the floor, and the air between us seems to suddenly spark and sizzle with tension and pure heat. As she stares up into my smoldering eyes, I do nothing to disguise the pure _hunger_ I can feel roiling around inside me for this exquisite creature before me. I can honestly say I have _never_ wanted to sleep with a woman more than I have _her._ And, that thought pleases me immensely. Seriously, I want her between my sheets like nothing else I've _ever_ wanted before...and I am _going_ to have her. My mind's made up. I wasn't kidding when I told her _she'd_ upped the ante. This may be a game between us, but to _me_ , the stakes just got a helluva a _lot_ higher...and no fucking way am I going to lose.

I am going to make her _mine._

She doesn't say anything. Just stares at me speechless. Smirking, knowing I've scored _another_ small victory...I told you, I _rarely_ lose a face off...I tilt my head at her once more, hoist my backpack higher on my shoulder, give her another wink and boldly step around her to make my way down the hall toward my next class, a cavalieristic swagger to my steps. As I brush past her, her perfume wafts out to wrap itself around me, and I swear it's now my favorite smell in the whole damn world. I suck in a sharp breath, feeling fine tremors in my belly. God, she's the most amazing woman I've _ever_ met. Absolutely magnetizing. I don't hear any footsteps behind me, which means she's still standing where I left her. Another cocky smirk breaks out on my face. Even though I don't pause to look back, I _know_ the import of my words hit her like a hard check on the ice.

I also know _exactly_ what this means.

Oh hell yeah! She likes me _waaaay_ more than she even realizes.

Sure in my assessment of the situation, I can't help a small fist pump of triumph once I'm out of her view and heading downstairs.

She may have surprised me and won round two today, but I'm nothing if not tenacious and giving up isn't in my vocabulary. The only thing she proved today is that she's worthy of my pursuit and once I've tired her out and win the game, I'll finally claim what's mine.

And I _know_ she won't be able to resist me then. And what a sweet victory _she_ will be.


	5. Chapter 5

**Note: I'm upping this story to M just to err on the side of caution. Mostly for language as far as this chapter is concerned. And we'll be seeing a new side of Anakin here. Hope you enjoy!**

 **The Goal: Chapter 5**

* * *

 ** _Anakin Skywalker_**

It's Saturday.

Nice morning out, cool and crisp, just a hint of fall in the air.

My favorite time of the year. _Hockey season_.

I'm up early today. Kinda unusual for me on the weekend, yeah. Especially with a killer ass hangover. _Shit._ But, I've got something on my mind. And, when I have something _really_ important weighing me down, I feel the need to go hiking. Get out in the fresh air and sunshine to clear my head, balance my focus.

Y'know...Figure things out.

And, I _need_ to figure this out, because it's driving me up the fucking wall.

Normally, I'd go by myself, but today, I've dragged Ryder with me. Or, rather he _insisted_ on coming along, which is totally fine by me. He _is_ my best friend, after all. Besides, he knows me really well, and after the frat party last night, he _knows_ something's up with me. He just doesn't know _what._

And, that _what_ is like a damn itch I can't scratch. It's what's driving me fucking insane.

Her. It's _her._ That's what...or rather the _who_ that's driving me crazy.

Padmé.

It's like she's bored herself into my brain and now won't _leave._ Ever since Tuesday, she's in like my every waking thought, my every dream at night. I've even found myself thinking about her at _practice!_ I can't be doing that. Shit...At practice, I need one hundred percent focus on our team, our coaches, and my own skill improvement. I _can't_ be thinking about a woman at practice, even if she _is_ the most gorgeous creature on two legs I've _ever_ seen.

Man, I've just _never_ had a female impact me before like _this._ And you know what's _really_ frustrating? The fact that _she_ seems to think I'm a total piece of shit or something. I'd never even met her before this week! I don't get it. I've tried _everything_ in my repertoire...and nothing has worked. Absolutely nada. Not my charm, my wit, my smile, my _looks._ I'm fucking flummoxed here. I'm used to women dropping their panties the second I smile at them...not giving me the proverbial cold shoulder.

I even went with my roommates to the frat party last night planning to hookup with a new face and put Padmé completely out of my mind...Only problem was, I couldn't do it. Don't get me wrong. There _were_ a ton of hot ass women there. Some of them I'd already banged, true, but there were quite a few I hadn't seen before. I scouted the scene, fourth beer in hand, deliberately looking for a target. _Any_ target. Blonde, brunette, redhead. I wasn't picky. Any cute willing female would work. But, as I walked around the party and scanned the masses of drunk gyrating females, everywhere I looked I saw _her_ face, and I remembered the way she'd looked at me Thursday right before she shot me down...and just _how_ intensely my body reacted to her. Something _else_ I've never had happen to me before. _That_ ardent a response...and almost instantly, too. Just thinking about Padmé killed _any_ desire on my part to get laid last night.

Talk about frustrating.

Oh, I had plenty of fawning females in various states of dress...and _undress_ , I might add...hanging around me last night. Each one trying their damnedest to catch my eye, too. Nothing new there, like I said, I'm a fucking chick magnet. I've got my reputation for a _reason_ , after all. But, even though I was well on my way to being drunk as shit, it's like my dick had switched itself off or something. Not even a _whisper_ of a semi showed up, despite the abundance of TA I was looking at. To be honest, I found _all_ of them decidedly _unattractive._ Again, this is totally foreign territory for me.

And, of course, my roommates noticed. Well, at least Ryder did.

He gave me some really weird looks last night when I left the party early...and _alone_.

That's not like me, and he _knows_ it.

So, this morning, when I hauled my hungover ass outta bed, got ready to go, determined to walk off my frustrations and try to figure this _thing_ with Padmé out, I was a bit surprised to see Ryder already up, in the kitchen nursing a cup of black coffee for his own hangover, and staring me down as I came in for a cup of java myself, his look almost accusatory.

"What the _fuck's_ up with you, man?" he bluntly asked, eyebrows furrowed.

I turned away, grabbing a mug and fixing my own cup of black coffee, and just shrugged my shoulders, "Nothing."

Ahhh...he knows me well. _Too_ well, probably. He didn't buy it. I didn't think he would.

"Don't gimme that bullshit. Something's up with you. I _know_ it."

I sigh and take a sip of coffee, just staring silently out the window over the sink, looking blindly out into the backyard. I'm brooding, something I almost _never_ do, and I know it.

What's more, I know that _he_ knows it, too.

He's _not_ going to let it go either. Dammit.

"Come _on,_ Skywalker! What the _hell's_ going on with you? I mean, first, you were all distracted during practice yesterday, which I've _never_ seen from you before. Then last night, at the party, you pretty much _ignored_ every chick there, man! That _isn't_ like you. I'm not stupid. So, spill it."

I take another sip of coffee and turn to face him, casually leaning back against the edge of the sink. I shrug my shoulders again, "What? Just because I didn't feel like getting laid last night, that means something's _wrong_ with me? Maybe I was just tired, y'know?"

His eyes almost bug outta his head, and he snorts in shocked disbelief, " _Anakin Skywalker_ not wanting to get laid?! Are you kiddin' me? You're like a one man fucking machine, Dude! This is me you're talking too, your best friend. Remember? So, what is it?" He just shakes his head at me and stares me down, arching his eyebrows, his look clearly that of _Don't fuck with me._

I groan internally, but say nothing, instead taking another sip of coffee, just staring at the floor. I _really_ can't deal with Ryder's inquiring mind right now. On top of a massive headache pounding inside my skull, I find, surprisingly, that I'm reluctant to say anything about Padmé to him. At least not right now. I mean, he's got a reputation like mine. What the hell would _he_ know about...Well, whatever _this_ is with Padmé that's tying me up in damn knots and making me lose my focus here.

Dammit, I gotta get out of here and get some air.

I quickly down a few more quick sips of my coffee before dumping the last of it down the sink and putting my mug in the dishwasher. Turning to my quiet best friend, who's still staring at me like I've sprouted antlers or something, I announce, "Look. I've got something on my mind, okay? That's all. So, I'm going hiking this morning to try and clear my head before I go over to my mom's this afternoon. I'll see ya later." I move to head back to my room to grab my keys and helmet, but Ryder stands up from the table, shaking his head, and moves to follow me.

"Fine. A hike sounds good. So, I'm coming with. I'll drive." He heads down the hall and into his room, leaving me for a moment in silent contemplation, as I stare after him.

Fuck. I had hoped to go alone. Figures my bro wouldn't let me. Ok, fine. He wants to come, too? Let him. Who knows...Maybe he can distract me from my _issue_ , and maybe _that_ might help give me some clarity. Just have to see. I make my way to my own room, grab my phone, my wallet, and my keys and the small backpack I take with me hiking. I usually take a couple of bottled waters and some granola bars or trail mix with me hiking, and I carry them in this backpack. I grab my hiking boots out of my closet and sit on my bed and put them on.

Ryder appears in my doorway, his keys in hand, "Ready?" he asks me. I nod, standing back up and grabbing my stuff, as he says, "Good. I'll go get my _Jeep._ Meet ya outside." I nod again and make my way back to the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing four bottled waters and an ice pack from the freezer before opening the pantry and grabbing my bag of trail mix and several granola bars and stuffing it all in my backpack. Whether people know it or not, hiking is a serious workout, and you _do_ get tired, hungry, and thirsty. Which is why I always come prepared. With everything in hand, I head out to the driveway where Ryder now sits in his dark forest green _Jeep Liberty,_ waiting for me.

I climb in the front passenger seat, dumping my backpack on the floorboard between my feet, shutting the door, and putting on my seat belt. "So, where we headed?" he asks, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, watching me get settled in my seat.

" _Blue Hills Reservation_ ," I tell him, and he nods in response, puts the SUV in gear, and we pull out onto our street and take off. Blue Hills is a seven thousand acre park about a thirty minute drive south from where we live in Brighton, near campus. It's a very popular hiking and picnicking spot for Bostonians, and it's one of my favorite hiking locations in the area. Its got 125 miles of hiking trails with some truly sweeping vistas of the Boston Metro area. Today, I want to hit my personal favorite trail...the almost six mile long _Skyline Loop,_ which is one of the most challenging trails with lots of ups and downs and rock scrambles to provide plenty of exercise to an avid hiker such as myself.

Ryder's been hiking with me before, but not on this trail. It should be challenging enough for him. I mean, he _is_ a well conditioned athlete after all, just like me. Traffic is light this morning, and we have no problems making the drive in just under thirty minutes. We park, climb out, and make a beeline for the start of the loop, my feet knowing the way almost by heart.

There are a few people already ahead of us on the path, but it's still quiet and peaceful. The sun is shining brightly this morning, but there's a nice cool breeze rustling through the treetops and the bushes, while several birds can be heard chirping away out of sight in all the foliage, all of which are soothing. Ryder keeps up with my pace easily, not saying a word, and he seems to get that, right now, the quiet solitude is actually more important to me than the actual hike itself. Which is good, because already my thoughts are turned inward once more, my focus honed in on Padmé.

Yeah, I'm basically an outgoing, gregarious, people person kinda guy, but that doesn't mean I don't have my introverted moments where I need to be by myself to just _think._ Fortunately, Ryder knows me well enough to realize that _that_ is where my head is at right now. So, like all good bros do, he shuts the fuck up and lets me do my thinking in peace. I'll talk _if_ and _when_ I'm ready and not one moment before.

So, about this _thing_. About Padmé. Why is it _eating_ at me like this? I really don't get it.

I mean, yeah, sure...I'm enjoying this _game_ between us. It's...What is it? I stare up at the blue sky above and struggle to come up with the right words to describe it. Well, for one thing, it's a challenge. No. Wrong. _She's_ a challenge. A puzzle. A mystery. One unlike _anything_ I've ever encountered before...at least in a woman. I purse my lips, my mind focusing on Padmé, as I continue to walk forward on the path, not even breaking a sweat at the increasingly rugged terrain.

She's this petite, intelligent, witty, gorgeous _smartass_ that opposes me, provokes me, and patronizes me in such a way that, instead of pissing me off, I find it rather...invigorating, captivating, fascinating, and enthralling all at the same time. I find that the more I am near her, around her...the more time I _want_ to spend with her, despite her apparent desire for the exact opposite. Her acerbic comments and tenacious boldness make me laugh. She makes me think. Her mind is deep, brilliant, and as sharp as the blades of my skates. She gives _just_ as good as she gets, which I _seriously_ like, I gotta admit.

She's _not_ afraid to confront me or rip me a big one, despite the fact I practically tower over her tiny form. And, as I said before, she is literally the single _most_ beautiful woman I've _ever_ seen. I feel like I could drown in her dark chocolate eyes every time she looks at me. I long to kiss her luscious pink lips and never stop, to wrap my fingers in her luxurious mahogany tresses and bury my face in those curls. I want to nuzzle her neck with my nose, breathing in her richly feminine scent. And, I'm not gonna lie...Yeah, I want her perfect naked body in my bed and wrapped around my own naked and much larger masculine frame in a deeply passionate embrace as I fuck her like she's never been fucked before.

In short, I find her utterly and completely _intoxicating_.

And, I want her. I want her more than anything I've ever wanted in _my life_ before. Yeah, dammit...even more than I want that sweet _NHL_ contract, as _crazy_ as that sounds.

I frown, shoving my hands in the front pockets of my tan cargo shorts. Is this...? Nope. I don't want to consider it. The 'L' word. _Naaah._ Can't be it. Not _me._ I'm _Anakin Skywalker._ I'm captain of the ice, lover of women, and soon to be the _NHL_ 's bright up and coming star. I couldn't possibly have fallen for this tiny slip of a girl. I don't _fall_ for women. I fuck them. Plain and simple. There's never any talk of an 'us'...Hell, there's never any real talking period. It's _all_ about hitting the sheets, the floor, the backseat, the wall…I mean, whatever. Wham, bam, over and done.

And, on to the next conquest.

But, is that _all_ I see her as? Just another notch on my hockey stick? I think on this for several long minutes. _No,_ I conclude, with a frown. She's not just another faceless bang on my way to the next. In fact, I'm actually kinda shocked to realize I deeply _respect_ her, in ways I rarely have any other female. Well, save for my mother, of course. And, _that_ realization shocks me, too. I mean, I knew she was in a class all her own, yeah, but to rank her in the same sphere as my _mom?_ Whoa. That thought actually makes me...nervous. I can feel butterflies in my stomach, and I've not had _that_ happen since the very first time I asked a girl to dance when I was in the seventh grade and went to my first school dance.

"Hey, man...Can we stop and take five? I need some water."

Ryder's request jerks me from my thoughts, and I nod my head, as I ease my backpack off my shoulders, unzip it, and reach in and grab two cold bottled waters, handing him one and keeping one for myself. We twist the caps off and each of us takes a long swig of water. Glancing around, I recognize our location and realize we're about two and a half miles down the trail, almost to the halfway mark on this loop. I reach in my backpack and grab a couple of granola bars, handing one to him. We eat and drink in silence for a few minutes before I gather our trash and shove it back in my backpack, zip it up, and sling it back on my shoulders. "Feel better, Bro?" I ask Ryder, and when he nods, I motion with my head to the trail, "Great, let's go."

He follows me as I take the lead heading down the trail again. "So, wanna talk about it?" he asks me.

I frown. Fuck. Ryder's as persistent as I am. I should've known he wouldn't drop it. I shake my head, "Not really."

"Too fucking bad, Bro, because I'm gonna badger the hell outta ya until you talk. I told you, I _know_ how you are, man."

He's right. He does. And, I also know he won't shut the hell up until he gets me to cave and start talking. I knew I should've come alone. Just fucking _knew it._ Sighing, I shoot him a look over my shoulder, "Come on, Wes...Can't you just drop it? What are you? My mother? _Shit!_ "

He smirks, "Nope. Just your best bro. Which means, I _know_ when something's eating at you...like now." He shrugs and gives me a look daring me to deny it, which I can't, because he's fucking right.

Sighing, I shake my head in exasperation, " _Fine._ If you _must_ know, it's Padmé, dammit. _She's_ what's on my mind."

I walk a few paces onward, only to realize I no longer hear steps _behind_ me. Coming to a stop, I turn around only to see Ryder standing still, hands on his hips, mouth hanging open, eyes bugging out, and a _What the hell?_ look on his face. I just stare back at him. After a minute, he shakes his head, as if to clear it, then bursts out, " _Padmé?_ Who the _hell_ is Padmé?"

I roll my eyes, "She's a girl in my Greek history class. She sits in the desk next to mine."

He continues to just stare at me dumbfounded, "So? What about her?"

I grimace, "She's making me nuts, that's what, and it's driving me fucking insane, and I don't know what to _do_ about it."

He smirks, "Are you _shitting_ me, man? You're telling me that a _girl_ is what's had you so distracted all this week? _You?!_ Seriously?!" And, then he doubles over, hands on his knees, laughing his head off. Asshole.

I sigh, shaking my head just watching him. I _knew_ I should've come by myself. "Yeah. Padmé. She's a distraction. One I _can't_ afford either. Not if I want to have a standout season and score that _NHL_ contract I've wanted since I was six years old. I just can't get her out of my mind, dammit! I mean, _come on_...I literally _just_ met her on Tuesday, and ever since then, she's like _consumed_ my thoughts, day and night. It's frustrating the hell outta me, man," I huff, shaking my head, and then whirl and march forward down the path, this time hearing Ryder's footsteps behind me. He's still chuckling though. I can hear him.

Fuck it. He is _never_ going to let me live this down, I swear.

We walk for another hour in peaceful silence, which I appreciate, because my mind is still wrapped up on Padmé. _Why_ does she drive me this crazy when other girls haven't? Even when I had crushes in middle school, I was never _this_ fixated on them. Of course, by the time I hit high school, I had girls practically _throwing_ themselves at me every day, but since my focus was mostly hockey by then and working hard to keep my grades up to secure a full college scholarship, I didn't have time for a steady girlfriend, and to be quite frank, I wasn't really drawn to any of the girls I went to school with anyway, try though they did to get my attention. When I entered _BU_ to play college hockey, though, and puck bunnies started following me around all the time, I couldn't deny the masculine need to prowl and conquer, and conquer I _did._ Conquest after conquest. I soon garnered _quite_ the reputation with the ladies on campus, but still, most of the time _they_ came after _me._ I simply took advantage of what they gladly offered. What guy wouldn't in my shoes?

But again, I've _never_ met another woman like Padmé. Ever. _She_ draws me...and in ways I honestly _never_ would've expected. And, the fact that she's _resisting_ me so tenaciously draws me even _more._

So much so I almost can't stand it.

I know I want her, but _how_ do I break through her icy exterior? I gotta figure this out. And, soon. We've got Round Three coming up on Tuesday, and I wanna be prepared for _this_ face off. She totally bested me on Thursday, I admit, but _I_ intend to win Tuesday's round. I can't help the feral grin that breaks out on my face just thinking about it, about _her_. Just picturing the sexy sway of her hips and that perfect firm ass of hers in those tight jeans she had on the other day is giving me a semi here. I have to bite my lip to stop a groan from escaping, and shit, that's the _last_ thing I need to do in front of Ryder. He's already laughing at me as it is. I don't need to give him any more ammo to target me with.

Of course, knowing him, I'm sure he's not about to drop it.

Dammit, it sometimes sucks being right.

When we reach the five mile mark on the trail, we pause to down another water and a couple more granola bars. Ryder chooses this moment to bring my _dilemma_ back up. Figures. "So, why does this Padmé chick make you so crazy anyway, man?"

The exact same question I've been asking myself almost continuously since Tuesday...I still don't know for sure, but I figure I'll give it a shot. Who knows. Maybe he _can_ help me figure this out, as laughable as that thought is. "Well, for starters, she's the single most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my entire life. She's got gorgeous dark brown hair that falls in these silky looking ringlets halfway down her back, and these deep dark chocolate brown eyes I could get lost in for days. She's this petite little thing. I mean, she barely reaches my shoulder, she's so short, but she's got the most gorgeous ass imaginable, and this absolutely perfect hourglass figure with the most incredibly pert round breasts..." I trail off speaking, as I once again imagine Padmé in my mind's eye. So wrapped up in her image am I, that I don't even realize I'm staring off into space with a faraway look in my eye and this goofy smile plastered on my face. Not until I hear Ryder snort and start laughing again, which jerks me back to the here and now.

I frown as he just smirks at me. "What?" I ask, annoyed at the way he's looking at me.

He just shakes his head at me, "You _do_ realize you just described about a third of the girls on campus, right?" He arches his eyebrows at me, like he's daring me to refute his statement.

I shake my head vigorously, "No. Not like this girl, Wes. I'm serious, man. Padmé is simply in a class by herself."

Ryder purses his lips, nods his head, and crosses his arms over his chest. "Ok. So what if she's beautiful? It's not like you've never been with beautiful women before, and none of _them_ ever got under your skin like this. So, it's gotta be something else about her."

He's right. It _is_ more than her looks alone that has me captivated. So, what else is it about her, and how do I describe it? I pause for a few minutes, looking at the ground, trying to gather my thoughts to put into words what I'm feeling. He just stands there waiting.

Finally, I heave a sigh...and spill my fucking guts, "She's not like the puck bunnies are, man. She doesn't _fawn_ over me like all the other girls do. In fact, that's what struck me about her from the start. She acts like she thinks I'm a total piece of shit, which I have _never_ had happen to me before. Don't get me wrong...I was attracted to _her_ from the moment I saw her, but no matter what I say or do, nothing works. I've tried _everything,_ man. Doesn't seem to matter to her. She's given me the cold shoulder and rebuffed _every_ advance I've made toward her." I pause to heave in some air before I start back up in a rush, totally missing the incredulous amusement plastered on Ryder's face as he listens to me vent, "In fact, she about knocked me on my proverbial ass Thursday. We have these like...verbal face offs before and after class, almost like it's a game to see who'll best who, y'know, and she _totally_ played me, Wes...totally! Thursday before class, she went all soft and goo-goo eyed on me, acting all flirtatious and stuff, like she was going to kiss me right there in class, dammit...and then out of the fucking blue, she _slams_ me, telling me she wouldn't be with me if her _life_ depended on it...Shit, man...and then, check this out...she up and calls me _'Slap Shot'!"_ I shake my head in bewilderment and let out a rumbling growl of frustration.

Ryder sounds more than amused...he actually sounds fucking _delighted_ when he takes the opportunity to speak, " _Welllll_ , I'll be damned! Never thought I'd see the day! Figures it would take an Ice Queen to fell _you_ , though, _Slap Shot_. Holy shit! This is fucking hilarious." He starts chuckling again and shaking his head at me, arms folded over his chest.

I'm far from amused, because I don't find this in the least bit funny. I just glare at him, which, of course, he totally ignores. "Come on, Wes...This _isn't_ funny. I told you, this is driving me _crazy,_ and I need to figure this out before our next class on Tuesday. Will you stop laughing, 'cause I'm being serious here," I huff, a look of frustration crossing my face.

Smirking still, he holds up his hands at me in a gesture of surrender, "Alright, alright. I get it." He shoves his hands in his front shorts pockets and purses his lips, as if he's really considering my dilemma. "Look...Have you ever considered that _maybe_ she's just not interested? I mean, maybe you're not _her_ type, y'know?" When I frown and start shaking my head no, he holds up a hand and continues, "I admit, that's unlikely...I mean, this is _you_ we're talking about here, but still, it's a possibility."

I shake my head vigorously at his suggestion, "Nope. I don't think that's it. I've noticed her checking me out, out of the corner of her eye during class, and on Thursday after class, there was a moment as we faced each other in the hall where I _swear_ it was like fucking electricity passed between us, man...Seriously, it gave me freakin' goosebumps. No, there's definitely _something_ there between us...I just can't explain it, and I don't really know what I should _do_ about it." I sigh and run my right hand through my short blond hair in frustration.

Ryder crosses his arms over his chest again, considering me, "So, what's her major and her year? Do you know?"

I nod my head, "Yeah. She's a senior. Political science major."

He purses his lips and nods, "So, you're about the same age roughly... _and_ I'd wager she's pretty damn smart...probably a geek, too." He notices my glower, as I instantly jump to her defense, making him smirk, "Ok, ok...a _gorgeous_ geek, then...Bro, maybe she's just not into sports? I dunno, but ask yourself this: Are you _enjoying_ this... _thing_ between you?" He arches his eyebrows at me expectantly, awaiting my answer.

Fuck yeah, I'm enjoying this. It's like I'm a hunter, and _she's_ my prey...and the _thrill_ I'm getting from this chase is like nothing else I've ever experienced before, and I gotta admit, a part of me...a very _large_ part actually...never wants this chase to end. Glancing at my best friend, I nod, admitting, "Yeah. I am. A _lot_ actually. Why?"

He shrugs, "Because maybe you don't need to figure this out. Maybe you need to just see where this _thing_ goes. Y'know, let it work itself out. It's only been a few days since you met, after all. Who knows, man... _maybe_ you've finally met you're match, and she's _'the one'_ for you, but even if she is, why rush it? If you're enjoying this as it is, then kick back and relax and _allow_ yourself to enjoy this for now and just see where this thing goes. Y'know, see where it leads...and in the meantime, try to get to know her better and, conversely, let her get to know the real _you._ Not the off ice _Rico Suave_ you're known as. Y'know, maybe it's your player reputation that she doesn't like." He shrugs again as he finishes speaking.

Hmm...There's an idea, and one I'd not really considered before. Maybe my reputation really _is_ something she finds offensive. I have to admit, from a feminine perspective, I'm definitely _not_ what you could call good _boyfriend_ material. Not with _my_ reputation. And, if first impressions are anything to go by, Padmé doesn't strike me as the type of girl that would sleep around.

Maybe Wes is right. Maybe I don't need to figure this out after all. Maybe just relaxing and enjoying each encounter with her as they develop is my best course of action for now. It makes sense...and it would give me the chance to get to know her better. And, I _do_ plan to know her better. Much, much better. And, it would give me a chance to let her see the _real_ me...not the player I'm known as. Don't get me wrong...I have definitely earned my rep as a womanizing college hockey player, but there is more to me than just my game and my rep. Much more. Though I don't tend to share the _real_ me except with my family and my closest friends, I'd be willing, oddly enough, to open up to _her._

 _That is if she'd even_ let _me get close to her,_ I muse to myself.

Maybe I can get her to see past my reputation. Get her to realize just what she's passing up. Yeah, that sounds arrogant, I know, but I can't have been the only one who felt that electric connection between us. No, I'm positive she felt it, too. Considering the look in her eyes on Thursday after class, I _know_ she did. And, that _has_ to mean something, right? What if Wes is right? What if Padmé really _is_ my perfect match, the woman I am destined to be with forever? My proverbial _'one and only.'_

This thought suddenly gives me pause. I've never really given that aspect of my future much thought. I guess, like most guys, I've sorta figured that, yeah, _someday_ I'd eventually settle down, get married, and have a family. But, also like most guys my age, that someday was always far, _far_ into the future, well down the road...In fact, so far down the road that I couldn't even envision it really. My main focus has been doing well in school, graduating with my degree, and making it into the _NHL._ The only way females played into my foreseeable plans has always been as a momentary means of physical satisfaction _for me._ Nothing more.

Hey, I know that _definitely_ makes me a player, a real ass, true, and I know it sounds horrible. I get that, but that's just how my puck's always been played... _Scoring_ was the _only_ thing I cared about, and _any_ willing, attractive female would do, and to be honest, I don't really remember _any_ of them after the fact, because none of them mean _anything_ consequential to me.

But, again, Padmé is different. Totally. She's more than proven that fact already. And, obviously, I'm going to have to approach this thing with her from an entirely different angle than any I've ever tried before. Smiles, good looks, and charm don't work. Or, at least they haven't worked _yet._ But, I'm not giving up. I'm master of the ice...and I _will_ find a way to break through her icy exterior. Just gimme time.

Wes arches his eyebrows again at me and motions with his head forward down the trail, silently asking if I'm ready to move on. Nodding my head 'yes' in response, we set off again, completing our hike in silence after another thirty minutes. We head to Wes' _Jeep,_ climb in, he starts it up, and we head off down the road, stopping to go through a drive through for a quick _Whopper_ with cheese and a large soda for a snack. I'm eating a late lunch with my parents at their house, but as I said, hiking sure does work up the appetite, and what better way to satisfy that than a quick burger? Works for me.

Besides, today I am switching out my vehicles. Every year, when hockey season starts, I drop off my motorcycle with my parents, storing it for the winter in their garage, and I grab my ' _69_ _Mustang,_ which they keep in their garage for me during the Spring and Summer. It's a real smokin' hot beauty, if I do say so myself. It was originally my stepbrother's car when he turned sixteen, but when he moved out of the house when he turned twenty and bought himself his own car, my folks said I could have the _Mustang_.

Cliegg, my stepdad, and some of my buddies and I have all put a lot of time, effort, and _lots_ of elbow grease into restoring it to near pristine condition. And, it shows. I love this car. It's a damn sweet ride, that's for sure. I've made out with _plenty_ of girls in it over the years, lemme tell you. I got my license on this car. I lost my V card in this car. Yep, lots of memories, and I _never_ intend to get rid of it either.

* * *

Once I'm showered and dressed in clean blue jeans, a navy blue polo shirt, my tan leather deck shoes, and a casual denim jacket, I grab my wallet, my cell, and my helmet, shove my motorcycle keys in my pocket and head out the door. My folks only live about twenty-five minutes away, which isn't bad, so I'm not in any rush. Well, except for lunch. I'm actually _really_ hungry, and I _love_ my mother's spaghetti. So, I can't wait to get there. I can practically smell the sauce bubbling away on the stove already.

In practically no time, I'm pulling into my parents' driveway and park my motorcycle in front of the garage, and then pull off my helmet and head around the side of the garage into the backyard and to the steps leading up to the back deck. Climbing them, I make for the back door, which leads into the kitchen and dining room. It's unlocked, and I walk right in, calling out, "Hey, Mom! Hey, Dad!" My mother is standing by the stove, stirring a large pot…probably her signature homemade spaghetti sauce, while another pot has steam visibly rising above it – probably for the noodles. The heartwarming smells of garlic, tomato, and basil fill the air as I shut the door behind me, set my helmet down on the bar, and then walk around it into the kitchen to hug my smiling mother.

"Ani! Always good to see you!" she says, as she wraps her arms around my waist to give me a hug. I do the same to her and smile, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

"Always good to see you, too, Mom. Smells awesome in here! What time'll lunch be ready? I'm starving."

My mother just chuckles and shakes her head, pulling back to reach up and pat my cheeks with her hands, "When are you _not_ hungry, Son? Don't worry…it's almost ready."

I grin and nod and walk over to the fridge, intending to grab a _Coke_ , when I pull up short and just stare dumbstruck at the door of the fridge – for there, in a cut magnet frame, is a picture of my mom with a bunch of ladies from work…and _Padmé!_

 _What the fuck?_ Are you _shitting_ me? Why the _hell_ does my mother have a photo of Padmé on her fridge? _How_ does my mother even _know_ her?

I just stand there frozen to the spot, speechless, as the questions swirl round and round inside my head. Shaking off my shock for a moment, I open the fridge, reach in and grab a bottle of _Coke,_ and then call over my shoulder, "Hey, Mom…When was this picture taken? And, who's this girl here on the end?"

My mother walks over to stand beside me and smiles. "That was taken at Janice's retirement party about a month ago, and that," she points to Padmé with a genuine smile, "is my boss, Jobal's daughter, Padmé. She drops by the center at least twice a week to visit her mother, and she usually volunteers once a month, offering to sit and play checkers or make crafts or share tea and cookies with some of the residents."

My mother is a nurse, an RN, and she has worked at a local assisted living center for seniors for the last twelve years. My mother is an amazing woman, and I both respect and adore her. She had me when she was just nineteen. My father didn't bother sticking around. The moment he got wind of her pregnancy, he vanished, never to be heard from again. We were all each other had, until Mom met and married Cliegg Lars, my stepdad, when I was six. Mom's been working at the senior center since I was nine. Jobal took over the director position there when I was a junior in high school. I've met Jobal before, true, but never knew her last name and never realized she had a daughter…Now that I know who she is, I can totally see the resemblance between Padmé and her mother.

With a smug grin, I suddenly realize I need to stop by and visit my mother at work more often…especially if I can find out what days Padmé usually swings by to see _her_ mother. Mom sees my smile, and tilts her head and quirks an eyebrow knowingly at me, "Why do you ask, Son?"

If it were anyone else asking, I'd blow it off and make up some fake excuse to throw them off my real reason. But, I _never_ lie to my mother. Besides, she obviously likes Padmé. That could _definitely_ work to my advantage. I shrug, trying to appear casual, "I know Padmé. She's in my Greek history classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. She sits in the desk next to mine in class. I didn't realize you knew her."

I _am_ surprised to find that out, truthfully. No lie there.

Mom, however, just smiles, amused, her eyes twinkling, as she gives me a pointed look, "And, _you_ like her, don't you?"

Damn. She knows me so well. Just like Ryder. I feel heat rising in my cheeks, and I stammer like a seventh grader, "I-I…Well, she…We just…" I reach up and rub the back of my neck with my hand, an old habit of mine when I'm really nervous. Mom's look of amusement only grows with my discomfort, her eyes twinkling with mirth. She recognizes the move well. I finally sigh, "Yes, Ma'am. I do."

"Ahhh…I see," Mom says with a knowing look and a nod, as she crosses her arms over her chest. And, you know what? She probably does. Better than _I_ do at any rate. "Well, this is undoubtedly a first for you. At least since middle school when you had that crush on that Aayla girl in eighth grade."

" _Moooom_ , come on," I whine, feeling heat rise up again in my face. I'd forgotten all about that, and in fact, I barely even remember Aayla, to be frank. She had dark hair. I remember that much.

But, again, that was nothing compared to what I feel stirring deep within me now.

Mom just chuckles and reaches over to pat my cheek again, "Oh, Ani…Can't a mother tease her son a little every once in a while, huh?" Before I can answer, she turns and walks back over to the stove and turns off the burner under the noodles. Then she grabs two potholders and picks up the steaming pot and moves over to the sink and dumps the noodles in the colander to strain them. Next, she sets the pot back on the stove and then rinses the noodles with cold water.

I lean back against the fridge and drink my _Coke,_ just watching her move about the kitchen, finishing the prep for our meal. The garlic bread's done and sitting in a basket covered with a cloth napkin. The sauce is done, and knowing my mother, the salad's all done and chilling in the fridge. And, I bet I know what comes next…

"Ani, be a dear and get the plates and silverware out for us, please."

Figured as much. Told you I knew what was up next. Me setting the table. That's been my job since I was deemed old enough to handle the plates, glasses, and knives. I set my _Coke_ down on the counter next to the fridge and set about the task with a respectful, "Yes, Ma'am."

In another five minutes, the table's set and Mom sends me into the living room to get my stepdad. The two of us walk back in to the kitchen, and I step back to let my parents get their plates first. They set their meals down on the table and then Mom gets the salad and dressings from the fridge and sets that on the table next to her seat. Meanwhile, I pile my plate high with noodles and sauce. I close my eyes and inhale a huge whiff. I fucking _love_ my mother's spaghetti. _I hope Mom can teach Padmé how to make this as good as she does._ A feral grin crosses my lips at the idea.

My eyes suddenly snap open at this unbidden thought that crosses my mind. _Where the hell did_ that _idea come from?!_ I can't help thinking to myself in a bit of a panic. Exhaling forcefully, I turn and grab my bottle of _Coke_ and head to the table to sit down.

I mean, ok, I admit…I _like_ Padmé, and I'm enjoying this… _thing_ we've got going on. But, I am _not_ willing to consider it more than that. At least, not right now. If things progress between us as the semester wears on, then maybe in the future, I'll consider it as something more substantial, more meaningful. For now, though, the two L words are _like_ and _lust._ That's it.

We enjoy our meal, as always, and of course, I had two heaping helpings of spaghetti plus salad and garlic bread. It was scrumptious. We didn't discuss Padmé any further during our meal, but after lunch, Cliegg went to take a nap, leaving me and Mom to clean up. It's as we're putting the food up and loading the dishwasher that I bring up the subject of her again. "So, Mom..." I begin, standing at the sink and rinsing off our plates.

"Yes, Ani?"

I glance at Mom, and she's busy pouring the leftover sauce into a storage bowl.

"You said Padmé comes into work twice a week to see her mother. Do you know what days she usually visits?" I try to sound casual but hearing Mom chuckle behind me, I'm guessing I didn't quite pull it off. Glancing over my shoulder at my mother again, I see she's stopped what she was doing and is now leaning back against the counter, arms crossed over her chest, one eyebrow arched at me questioningly…and a huge ass smirk on her face. Sigh. Of course, she knows what I'm up to. Fishing for info.

Thankfully, she chooses not to taunt or tease but to answer me straight up.

"Usually she comes in on Wednesdays and Fridays, mostly in the mid afternoon. Sometimes she swings by on Mondays for lunch with her mother."

Ok. Answers that question, and, "You said she volunteers about once a month to visit with the residents?"

Mom's grin, if anything, grows wider, and her eyes are dancing merrily. I quell the urge to roll my own, despite knowing Mom's enjoying this _far_ too much. "Yeah, the third Saturday of each month usually. Any particular reason you ask, Son?"

I shrug and go for casual once more, "Just trying to get to know Padmé a little better. That's all."

"Uh-huh. _Sure_ you are. Now, quit the bull and talk to me, Son. Remember, I'm your mother, and I _know_ when you're not being entirely honest with me."

Shaking my head, I gotta admit. She's right. She does. I've never been able to lie to my mother. She could always see right through any bullshit. Rinsing off the last salad bowl, I load it into the rack of the dishwasher, stand back up, rinse my hands off, then dry them on a dish towel before I turn to my mother. Leaning back against the edge of the sink, I do the one thing I should do with her. I open up, spewing out my frustrations. "Mom, I _really_ like her. Ok? I mean, the moment she walked into our first class, I was instantly attracted to her. And, I've tried to talk to her, y'know, but…she just acts like I'm…I dunno, a piece of shit or something. She just totally blows me off. Like she doesn't even want to give me the time of day. I just…I've never…encountered _any_ woman like her before. Ever. I mean, I'm just so used to…" I pause, and I can feel my cheeks flush hotly, and I rub my hand nervously around the back of my neck. Dammit, I _need_ to stop doing that, but shit, what guy _wants_ to talk about his sex life with his own mother?! Exactly. _None._

Once again, my mother proves she's no fool…and that she knows her offspring oh so well, "You're used to girls throwing themselves at you left, right, and center and not having to work for the attention, right?" I open my mouth and then snap it shut, like a fish, deciding to just nod my head in silent answer, "Yeah. I know, Ani. You're blessed with the same golden looks that your father had at your age, and he was a girl magnet, too. Trust me."

My response is rather sheepish, "Yeah, you're right. I'm so used to women chasing after _me._ I've just never had _any_ female give me the brushoff or the cold shoulder before, Mom. And, the thing is, she acts like I've done something to _offend_ her, and I'd never even met her before last week! I just can't figure out what I've done to her, if anything, y'know." I let out a huff and rake my hand through my hair, before twisting my lips in confused annoyance. Because that's what I am…confused at Padmé's continued attitude toward me and annoyed that it's bothering me so damn much.

Mom chuckles and shakes her head, "Ani…You have a _lot_ to learn about women. Look, let me give you some advice…Anything worthwhile, anything worth having, requires hard work, dedication, and perseverance. You know this from playing hockey, right?" she pauses and gives me a pointed look. I simply nod, because she's right. It took a _lot_ of hard work to get to where I am as captain of the _BU_ men's hockey team. She nods and continues, "Well, relationships…especially _romantic_ ones…are no different. You have to _work_ at it, persevere through the challenges, overcome the roadblocks, if you will, to achieve success. Again, trust me. It's _not_ all sunshine and roses, Dear. You're going to have to downshift and take things much, much slower than you're used to here. Besides that, I know Padmé…at least better than you do at the moment…and she's definitely _not_ a frivolous, flirty, floozy that sleeps around. Ok? So, if that's where you're going with this, forget it. It won't happen. I've known her for a _long_ time, Son. She's _nothing_ like all those puck bunnies that have been chasing after you since you hit puberty."

She's absolutely right about _that_ , not that I hadn't already figured that much out for myself, of course.

"Padmé's…much more _reserved_ in nature than the women you're used to, Ani. Once you get to know her, she's sweet, charming, articulate, highly intelligent, and witty. But, she doesn't let people in easily, and it can take awhile for her to warm up to you."

"Is she dating anyone that you know of, Mom?" I admit, I'd wondered if she was. It would certainly help explain her disinterest if she was.

Mom shakes her head, "No, not that I know of. She's gone out on the occasional date, but nothing serious that I'm aware of. At least, neither she nor Jobal has mentioned anything."

Ok. So, that's not it. Then, I suddenly recall something Ryder mentioned to me this morning on our hike…" _Y'know, maybe it's your player reputation that she doesn't like."_ I admit I hadn't given this _too_ much thought this morning, but based on what my mother has just said, I tilt my head and seriously ponder this idea. Maybe…maybe Ryder's right. Maybe she's aware of my womanizing reputation, and she's afraid I'll treat her like just another piece of ass. Hmm…I couldn't blame her for thinking that, no. I mean, I've never made any secret of the fact that my sole interest in females to this point in my life has been in bedding them. Nothing else. Sometimes just one quick fuck, sometimes an all night fucking session. Either way, the woman didn't matter to me beyond that, and each one was easily forgotten immediately after the fact. I hate to admit it, but in all seriousness, I honestly never thought my carousing ways would ever be a potential problem for me down the road. It's not like I've been out there having unprotected sex, because I never do that. And, it's not like I've slept with _every_ female I've ever met either, because I haven't. But, I honestly never even _considered_ how a potential girlfriend might look upon my past should I ever show enough interest in a woman to _want_ to enter an exclusive relationship.

That's my bad. Apparently, I _should_ have, if my mom's advice holds water, which it usually does. But, in my defense, like any other guy my age, I've been ruled by my dick. And, the heat of the moment has always won out over _future_ considerations. But the future's apparently here and now for me, and the hard truth is smacking me upside the head like a two by four. I mean, from _my_ perspective, should it really _matter_ to Padmé how many women I've slept with before her? As long as I don't sleep with anyone else _but_ her from now on? I mean, the past is just that…the past, right? It's over, done, final…and it can't be changed. So, why worry about it? Right?

Mom watches me silently, giving me time to process all this. Finally, I sigh and give Mom a pained look, "Do..Do you think maybe my philandering reputation might've turned her off, Mom?"

She gives me a penetrating look and remains silent for a long time, long enough I literally start sweating under her gaze. "Would you blame her if it did, Son?" No, I couldn't. Not at all, now that I stop and think about it, so I simply shake my head in response. "I want you to stop and look at this from _her_ perspective for a moment. You're a highly attractive, well renowned, college athlete with a 'love 'em and leave 'em' type of reputation. If you were in _her_ shoes, what do you think _you'd_ be thinking about a guy with that kind of reputation who suddenly comes after you? Don't you think you'd be pretty skeptical about the guy's intentions toward you?" Mom's look is pointed as she stares me down.

She's right. I'd never stopped to consider a woman's point of view about me…well, other than them thinking I'm hot and wondering how good I am in bed, y'know, to see if it's as good as my reputation says it is. If I was Padmé, I'd definitely be skeptical about my intentions…and honestly, when I first met her, those intentions weren't any different than those I'd had toward any other hot ass female I'd fucked. No, it wasn't until Round Two on Thursday when I felt the stirrings of something _more_ for her deep in my gut.

Ok. I can't change my past, so what do I do now?

I know I have a morose look on my face, and Mom sighs and approaches me, giving me a quick hug of encouragement. I hug her back, and then she pulls back and says, "Ani, most girls grow up dreaming of their own 'Handsome Prince.' That's what they envision. It's what most fairy tales are about after all, the proverbial 'knight in shining armor' that comes charging in on a white horse. That's what girls grow up looking forward to…their one true love, marrying him, and settling down to live _'happily ever after.'_ They don't grow up dreaming of a guy who only wants to sleep with them once and then walk out the door and never see them again. Look, maybe a lot of girls today fantasize about living the _'Sex And The City,'_ lifestyle, but Padmé's definitely not one of them. If you want Padmé, then you're going to have to change your ways, Son."

She smiles and pats me on the upper arm before turning to finish putting away the food.

Sighing, I concede Mom's point. "Yeah, I get it, but I'm just afraid she'll never give me the chance."

Glancing at me again, she smiles encouragingly, "You're a wonderful person. You really _are._ What's not to like about you? To this point in your life, hockey's been your main focus along with school. You said yourself you've never encountered any woman like Padmé before, and while I would wholeheartedly approve of her as your girlfriend…and even more so as your future wife, you _have_ just met. I would urge you to take this budding relationship slowly. Next time you see her, don't behave like a cocky, self-assured jerk with his eyes glued to her butt. Show her the _real_ you. The really sweet guy who's charmingly chivalrous, helpful, caring, who can behave like a gentleman and treat her like a _lady_ and not just a night's entertainment. In other words, show her the Ani that _I_ know and love. And, then see what happens."

Nodding again at her advice, I turn back and finish loading the dishwasher while she finishes putting the food away. After that's all done, I head out to the garage and hit the button to open the automatic garage door. My cherished _Mustang_ sits before me. I can't help smiling as I unlock the door and climb in. The seat fits my body like a glove. I turn on the car, and the engine growls, roaring to life instantly, and I love that sound, the sound of raw mechanical power. Putting it in gear, I reverse out of the garage until I'm abreast of my motorcycle. Turning off the car, I hop out, climb on my custom two wheeler, fire it up, and then move it forward into the back of the garage, where my stepdad has made a special slot for it so that it's out of the way during the winter. That done, I turn my motorcycle off, climb off, then hit the button to close the garage door again.

Now that I've switched out my vehicles, I head back into the house through the garage door that opens into the laundry room. Mom's already got the tablecloth and the napkins and dishtowels already going in the washing machine. Walking back into the kitchen, I see Mom's pulling out the vanilla ice cream from the freezer. "Ani, would you like a piece of apple pie with some ice cream for dessert?"

Did I just start drooling? I love Mom's homemade apple pie, too, and I never refuse it when she makes it. Nodding my head, I'm all smiles, "Oh yeah, Mom. That'd be great! Thanks!"

"Coming right up," she smiles at me, and dishes up a nice slice of pie with a dollop of ice cream on top for me. I make my way over to the bar and plop down on the first barstool and dig in. I usually limit my sweets, but fresh baked apple pie? Homemade from scratch? I think a little indulgence is allowed.

Mom joins me, standing up and leaning across from me on the bar, enjoying her own slice of pie. This is really nice. It's what I miss the most about not living at home…Mom, her homecooked meals, and her companionship, her advice. I swallow a bite of pie and glance her, "Mom, would it be okay if I came to volunteer at the center, too?"

She looks up at me and smiles slowly, "I'd need to ask Jobal, but seeing as you're my son, and Jobal's always thought very highly of you, I don't see why not. Any particular day you'd like to come by and help?" She smirks at me and takes another bite of pie.

And, I instantly feel another wave of heat sweep across my face, "Uhm…Maybe the same day that Padmé does? If you can give me a head's up on when that is, of course."

She purses her lips and nods, "I think that can be arranged, yeah."

I admit, that idea makes me sit up a little straighter, and I can't stop the grin that spreads across my lips, "Uh, think you'd like to join me for lunch once a week, too?...I mean," I shrug casually, "Maybe we could get Jobal and Padmé to go with us as well." I fork another bite of dessert and glance at my highly amused mother through my eyelashes.

"I think lunch sounds wonderful, and maybe so."

"And, do you think you…and maybe Jobal also…could mention my name and, y'know, put in a good word, or two, for me when Padmé stops by?" I can't help the hopeful eagerness that slips into my last request.

Mom's smile grows bigger and this time, she winks at me, "I think that can be arranged."

"Awesome! Thanks, Mom!" I gush before wolfing down the rest of my pie, making her laugh.

Did I mention how much I love and adore my mother?

She's had a hard life, to be sure, but she never let it deter her from succeeding at whatever she set out to do or showering me with unconditional love. Her wonderful example is what I looked up to all my life. It's where I learned the work ethic that I have today.

She's the one who taught me never to quit.

And, the fact that she knows _and_ approves of Padmé as a potential…girlfriend and mate for me is encouraging. The fact that she's willing to assist me in this potential endeavor even more so. If she honestly didn't think we'd be compatible as a couple (and she knows _both_ of us pretty well), she wouldn't beat around the bush about it. No, Mom would come right out and tell me to forget it here and now and move on. She didn't do that. Instead, she gave me some serious food for thought on how to better approach this situation with Padmé…and offered to help bring us into closer proximity, if you will.

She gave me some solid advice on how to win my Ice Queen over.

Sharing another grin with my mother, I'm thrilled to realize I'm now one step closer to doing just that.


	6. Chapter 6

**The Goal: Chapter 6**

* * *

 ** _Anakin Skywalker_**

My phone dings just as I step out of the shower.

Got a text.

Sighing, I wrap a towel round my waist and step over to the bathroom counter to pick it up. It's Monday morning, and I'm getting ready for class. Who could it be this time of day? It's only 8:30. Thumbing it on, I see it's from my mother. Quickly, I open it, a feral grin spreading across my face as I read it.

 ** _Just found out from Jobal that Padmé is due to have lunch with her today. So, I'll see YOU at 12:30._**

Fuck yeah! This is perfect timing! And, _just_ what I wanted to hear to kick off my week.

I instantly write her back: **_Awesome! Thx, Mom! Luv U._**

The three flashing dots appear before I read: **_Welcome!_** **_Luv U, too, Son._**

Setting my phone down, my mood suddenly lighter, I go about finishing getting ready for the day, paying extra careful attention to my grooming. I make sure I shave extra close…yet, carefully. Don't want to show up for my newly arranged _lunch_ _date_ with a face full of nicks and cuts, now do I? Nope. I also add just a smidge of hair gel to my damp mop of short curls, working it in with my fingers and then combing through my locks to give it some style. Finally, I brush my teeth really well, gargle with some minty mouthwash, then add a splash of aftershave to finish up. Grabbing my phone and my boxers, I exit the bathroom and head back into my bedroom, shutting the door and go about getting dressed, paying special attention to my day's attire.

We didn't have practice this morning, and I don't have class until 10:10. It's one of my senior design classes required for my degree. Class is over at 11:55, giving me just enough time to get to my car and make the drive over to the senior center to meet up with my mom… _and_ the lovely Naberrie ladies. Grinning like a maniac, I grab a clean pair of stonewashed straight leg _Levi's_ , a brown leather belt, and a _Hugo Boss_ white, short sleeved polo shirt, and my favorite brown leather deck shoes out of my closet, then grab clean boxers and navy ankle socks and go about getting dressed, leaving my shirt untucked. Once dressed, I add a spritz of cologne. Next, I grab my faded denim jacket, throwing it on, then grab my wallet, phone, backpack and keys. Giving myself one last lookover in the dresser mirror, I smile and nod at my reflection, pleased with my appearance. Not that looks have thus far had any impact on Padmé, but I sure as hell want to look my best around her anyway. I'm pretty sure she finds me physically attractive, even if she refuses to admit it, and I only plan on building on that unspoken attraction.

Bypassing the kitchen, I head out the front door, opting to skip making coffee and food. Instead, I plan to meet up with Ryder for breakfast this morning. On Mondays, it's been our custom the last two years to grab some grub about nine in the morning at a local _BU_ haunt, the _Pavement Coffeehouse_ on _Commonwealth Avenue_ just down the street from campus They've got good espresso and brewed coffee, plus delicious bagel sandwiches. I like their _Tequila Sunrise_ breakfast sandwich on a jalapeno toasted bagel with extra cheese. It's my favorite. We usually chat about whatever feminine conquests we've each made over the weekend, hockey and how practice or the season's going, our classes, cars, or other sports. Typical guy stuff, y'know. But, after our hike on Saturday, I've no doubts he's got only _one_ topic on his mind this morning. Yep. You guessed it.

Padmé.

Ryder spent Sunday with his family, while I spent the day working on school work and getting my _Mustang_ winterized. So, we've not discussed her…or my _conundrum_ over this thing with her any further, but I'm sure he wants to know what my mother had to say about her. Won't _he_ be knocked flat on his ass when I tell him Mom knows her. I can't help smirking as I imagine his shellshocked expression in my head.

Unlocking my _'Stang_ , I climb in, start her up, dump my backpack in the passenger seat, buckle up, and reverse out of the driveway. The drive doesn't take long, and I find a decent parking spot rather quickly, which is nice. I mean, this is a pretty big university with a lot of students. Parking can get tight sometimes. I grab my backpack, exit the car, lock it up, pocket my keys, sling my bag on my shoulder, and head off for the coffeehouse to meet Ryder. He had a couple of errands to run before his own first class this a.m., so he left the house before me today. It's a nice morning, brisk and sunny, and I make the walk easily, despite the crowded sidewalks full of students, business professionals, and instructors all scurrying to get where they each need to go.

Walking quickly, I can't help but notice how just about every set of female eyes I pass by tracks me…both as they approach me and then turning to glance back at me as I walk on past. Shaking my head, I ignore their blatant admiration, ruefully acknowledging that I _used_ to take great pride in garnering such attention, but _now,_ I only find it annoying and irritating. Meeting Padmé – and getting a strongly corrective dose of 'Mama said,' – has drastically changed my perspective on such matters. _For the better,_ I certainly hope. Heaving a sigh, I finish my walk, arriving at the coffeehouse and head inside. Glancing around, I see Ryder's already there ahead of me in line. Good. I get in line and make my way up to the front, where I place my order for my usual large black coffee and my favorite breakfast bagel. Noticing me at the register, Ryder sidles up to me, grin in place, his own coffee and breakfast bagel in hand, "Hey, Man…Where you wanna sit?"

Smiling, I shrug, "Anywhere. Pick an open spot." I motion round the room with my hand. It's pretty packed this time of day, but there are a few open spots visible. He nods and motions with his head for me to follow him when I get my food. Nodding, I slide over to the pickup area and wait for my own food and coffee to be ready. I wait about three minutes, and then grab my order when it's ready and make my way over to the table Ryder snagged for us. Plopping down across from him, I set my java and bagel on the table and dump my backpack on the floor at my feet. Lifting my cup, I inhale deeply, sighing with pleasure at the rich aroma of the coffee before taking a sip. I love strong coffee. And, I need it this morning, not only to be alert in class, but also to be wide awake and ready for my impending lunch date, which will _hopefully_ include Padmé and her mother.

Grinning wolfishly at the thought, I'm not surprised when Ryder smirks and looks at me with amusement over the rim of his cup as he takes a sip – then starts his next round of Twenty Questions. " _Soooo_ , what's that look for, huh?"

Taking a bite of my bagel, I flick my gaze up to his, then shrug my shoulders casually, calmly chewing and swallowing before taking another sip of coffee. "Nothing much. Going to meet my mom for lunch today after my morning class. No big deal."

The problem with best friends, as I've pointed out before, is that they usually _know_ when you're bullshitting, and his unimpressed quirk of one eyebrow, along with the _I don't buy that shit_ look he gives me, tells me I didn't get away with it this time either. "Uh-huh. Since when do you meet your mother for lunch during the week? I know something's up, Bro. What is it? Does this involve your Ice Queen, Padmé, by chance?" His look is pointed, and I know I'm caught out here.

Sighing, I simply nod, not bothering to deny it. "Yeah. Turns out, my mother knows her," I reveal before taking another bite of sandwich. And, just like I envisioned, a look of utter shock appears on his face. Smirking in amusement, I silently nod at his stunned expression. "Yep."

"No way, Man! For real?! How do you know?" Bemused, he just leans back in his chair and stares at me. He looks as surprised as I was myself to find this out.

"When I went over Saturday afternoon, Mom had a picture from work up on the fridge that I'd never seen before. It was of a bunch of the ladies she works with…plus Padmé. I asked her about it, and she said Padmé is Jobal's daughter, and she stops by the senior center at least twice a week to visit her mother…and she normally goes out to lunch with her mom on Mondays," I explain before drinking more coffee.

I watch his eyes widen in surprise…and then a smirk of understanding starts to appear as the cogs go to work in his head. "Wow…I take it Shmi had some helpful advice for you then. What'd she say?"

Nodding again, I add in more details, "Yeah. Mom knows me just as well as you do, Bro," he nods at this, because he knows my mother pretty well himself, of course. "She picked up right away that I like her, of course, and we talked about my… _dilemma_ with Padmé. Y'know, how she keeps giving me the cold shoulder and stuff." Again, he just nods in response, saying nothing. "Anyway, you said to me Saturday morning that maybe it's my rep Padmé objects to, and Mom seemed to think that _might_ be it. She said that she really likes and approves of Padmé…both as a girlfriend _and_ as a potential wife for me down the road," Ryder's eyebrows hit his hairline at this bit of news, "… _but_ that if I was serious about going after her, I'd have to downshift and take things really slow, because Padmé's definitely _not_ a hookup type of girl, which I'd sorta already figured that out on my own anyway, but still, Mom knows her pretty well, and she told me that if I stopped to think about things from _Padmé's_ point of view, I'm really lousy boyfriend material and my intentions toward her would be suspect…y'know, because of my rep and how I've treated women up 'til now." I pause speaking to take another bite of food, washing it down with a couple of sips of coffee. This gives Ryder a chance to digest more of his own meal – as well as everything I'm telling him.

After a few minutes, he nods and says, "Makes sense. So, what does having lunch today with Shmi have to do with Padmé?"

"Well, Mom said that she'd be willing to put in a good word for me with Jobal _and_ Padmé. I mean, I already know Jobal, of course, and she's always seemed to like me. So, when I suggested going out to lunch with Mom on a Monday when Padmé's due to meet up with Jobal for lunch…well, maybe asking if Jobal and Padmé would like to join _us_ …that if Mom could get Jobal to agree to that, then maybe this might give me a chance to show Padmé that there's more to me than being a manwhore. So, Mom texted me this morning when I was getting ready and said Padmé's meeting Jobal at the senior center today for lunch." I tilt my head at him and give him a pointed look.

He nods, "Gotcha. Sounds good. What time you gotta be there?"

"Twelve-thirty, which is perfect since my design class gets out at 11:55. Gives me just enough time to drive over there."

"Nice. Let me know how it goes, yeah?" He says, downing his last bite of bagel and standing up to sling his backpack over his shoulder, grab his coffee, and his trash. "Come on, Bro. 'Bout time for class." He motions toward the door with his head. Nodding, I polish off the last of my own breakfast bagel, stand up and grab my own backpack and coffee, and we make our way to the door, dumping our trash before heading outside into the early autumn sunshine.

Our walk is uneventful, and while _I_ continue to ignore the suggestive stares of every female passing by, Ryder's not similarly restrained and shamelessly winks and ogles his way back to campus, his gait nothing but swagger. I roll my eyes at him, amused at his cocky brashness, despite my own personal change of heart. I would call him out on it, but since I've done the exact same thing more times than I can count, I keep my mouth shut to avoid being labeled hypocritical, because he'd be all over _that_ like white on rice.

As we start to cross campus, I notice a flash of crimson red approaching from the parking lot. Surprised, I slow my gait, my eyes bugging out of my head at the sight coming toward me. It's Padmé. She looks absolutely stunning this morning in a pair of crimson red corduroy overalls, over a white long-sleeved mock turtleneck, with a thick black knitted cardigan, and a pair of black suede slip-on clogs. Her chestnut hair's piled high in a messy loose bun on top of her head, her computer bag and purse slung over her right shoulder. I can't help the pounding of my pulse or that freaky butterfly feeling in my gut as I admire her. Fuck, she's gorgeous. But, the _other_ thing I notice immediately – which has my blood starting to boil – is the tall, good looking guy with light brown hair that's walking with her, and they're obviously _chummy_ because they're talking very animatedly, laughing easily together, and I freeze in my tracks when she reaches out and grabs his right forearm with her left hand and seems to _squeeze_ it encouragingly, telling him something quite earnestly, her face all animated, which makes him throw back his head and laugh all the harder. Her answering grin is brilliant, and sets my teeth on edge. _Damn,_ what I wouldn't give for her to look at _me_ like that.

 _Fuck!_ I don't like this one damn bit. And, both seeing her with another guy _and_ my unexpected reaction to the same has me _unnerved_ , because I can feel my nostrils flaring, my breathing becoming more rapid, and my jaw's getting tight, muscles clenching. Enough so that Ryder notices right away and stops abruptly, too. I notice out of the corner of my eye that he's looking at me with a frown, obviously confused as to the abrupt change in my demeanor. Without taking my gaze from Padmé and her companion, I tilt my head toward them, quietly telling Ryder, " _That's_ Padmé."

He whips his head around and stares slack-jawed and bug-eyed at her, his mouth forming a silent 'o.' We stand still and simply watch the pair cross our path in front of us, totally oblivious to our presence and obviously making their way to their first morning classes. We stare after them until they disappear around a corner and out of our sight, before I inhale and exhale several times, forcing myself to relax. Unbeknownst to me, I had apparently curled my one empty hand into a fist, and I slowly relax it. Thankfully, I didn't crush my cup of java with my other hand. Of course, none of this escapes Ryder's notice either. He issues a long low whistle, "Fuck, Bro…No wonder you're falling for her. She's a fucking stunner! _Shit!_ But, who's he? Boyfriend, maybe?" He asks me, raising his eyebrows as he turns to look at me.

I have no fucking idea, but I damn well intend to find out. _Today._ Now that I've set _my_ sights on her, no fucking way am I going to simply allow another guy to skate off with _my_ Ice Queen, dammit! Nope. My mind's made up. Padmé's going to be _mine_ , or my name's not Anakin Skywalker! As I stand there, staring in the direction she disappeared in, I hear Ryder chuckle again. Whipping my head round to look at him, I raise my eyebrows, "What?" I am suddenly pissed off and not in the mood to deal with his smartass shit.

Grinning wolfishly, he gives me a sly wink, "Whatcha so pissed for, huh… _Slap Shot?_ Not jealous, are you?"

He looks so fucking smug right now. Asshole. If he wasn't my best friend, I swear I'd deck him. Gritting my teeth, I mutter tersely, "No. I'm not," making him laugh all the harder.

Shaking his head, grin plastered to his face, he reaches out with his free hand and claps me on the shoulder, " _Sure_ you're not, Bro. Keep telling yourself that. Maybe then one of us will believe it…only, it won't be _me._ Enjoy lunch. I'll see you this afternoon at practice." With that amused declaration, he turns and heads off for his own morning class, leaving me to stand there, stewing at his words.

Am I jealous? I admit, it made me beyond furious to see Padmé laughing and smiling as she walked and talked so animatedly with this dude, but _jealous?_ Me?! Is _that_ what I'm feeling? I wouldn't know for sure. I've never been jealous before in my life. _But, isn't there a first time for everything?_ Or, so they say….Whoever the hell 'they' are. Maybe that _is_ what I'm feeling. Ryder sure seems to think so. But, right now, I can't focus on the how's and why's of it all. Nope. I can talk with my mother about this later, I guess. Exhaling forcefully, I head off to class, pushing Padmé from my thoughts for the moment. I need to ace this class to stay on the Dean's List, and this design class is required for my degree. It's not an elective. So, I need one hundred percent concentration, just like at practice. For now, my Ice Queen has to wait another couple of hours.

But, lunch today should prove to be _quite_ interesting indeed. Hopefully, Mom and I can convince Padmé and Jobal to come out to lunch with us. Determined to set a good impression and show her and her mother that I'm a _really_ likeable and sweet guy, I can't fucking wait to get outta class and hightail it over to the senior center.

Because, I have a gut feeling this is only going to increase my hunger for her.

My plan set, I hike my backpack further up on my shoulder and walk briskly toward my first class, a feral grin plastered on my face, determination flooding me.

Ready or not, Padmé…Here I come.

* * *

Pulling up out front of the senior center, I find a shaded parking spot, always nice, park the car, cut the engine, climb out, and lock the car. I'm a few minutes early, but that's ok. I'm actually glad the prof released us ten minutes early today. I wanted to have a chance to hopefully get here a few minutes before Padmé at any rate so that I'd have a chance to say hello to Jobal first.

And pile on the charm and hope like hell Jobal agrees that lunch out with me and my mom sounds like a great idea.

We're going to a nice deli not far from here. Mom gets takeout from there quite often when she works, and the prices are reasonable. I told her that lunch was on me today, my treat. I've got money in savings from my summer job. I work at a local mechanic's shop, Watto's, not too far from campus. It's decent pay, and it gives me a chance to hone my mechanical skills. I've actually worked there since I was sixteen. Watto, the owner, is an asshole, but he pays on time, and he does good work, so his shop stays busy. He also doesn't give me a hard time about my need to continue hockey training over the summer either. So, I'm more than willing to put up with his grousing and his shit.

Of course, Mom and Dad help me out a lot still financially. After all, I _am_ still in college. They pay for my health insurance, help me with my car insurance, y'know, that kinda stuff, but they did the same thing for Owen, my stepbrother, until he finished his tech school. He does HVAC work. Got a good job with a local company, too, after graduation, and he makes decent money at it. So, it's not like I get preferential treatment, despite being the youngest of the family. Still, like I said before, my mother taught me a strong work ethic while I was growing up. She urged me to work hard and study hard. She wouldn't let me slack off and just play hockey and tinker. Nope. She made damn sure I didn't neglect my mind either. So, she's the main reason why I work as hard and diligently as I do. _If it's worth doing, it's worth doing right – the first time_ , she always says, and don't I know it, too. She's absolutely right about that.

Mom's taught me well.

Now I'm going to make sure I apply her advice in regard to thawing out my Ice Queen. Grinning, I head for the front entrance of the center, open the door, and walk into the main lobby. Arlene's the receptionist on duty today. She's a heavier set older woman with glasses and short curly red hair (that has a pinkish tinge to it) she undoubtedly gets from a bottle, but she's always been nice to me, and she greets me with a surprised smile as I walk up to the front desk. "Hi, Arlene. Been awhile. How've you been?" I ask, returning her smile with a genuine one of my own.

"Oh My God! Anakin! What a surprise! Does Shmi know you're coming by? I mean…I hope nothing's wrong!"

Did I mention Arlene's a little nosy? No? Well, she is. But, it's easy enough to deflect her questions – and answer her without really answering her, if you know what I mean.

Smiling, I wave my hand nonchalantly, "Nope. All's good, and yeah, Mom's expecting me. We're going out to lunch today."

"Oh, that's _so_ nice! We've not seen you round here nearly enough in the last year or so! Hopefully, you can visit your Mama more often."

 _That's the plan, yep._ I keep that to myself, though, and just smile benignly at her. "Yeah, I know. Listen, where's Mom at today?" I arch my eyebrows, and move away down the desk a little, hoping she'll take the hint. Thankfully, she does.

"Oh, sure! Shmi's in the 'D' wing today, Anakin. You remember where that's at, right?"

Yep, I sure do, and I nod my head in silent confirmation, "Great. Thanks, Arlene. See ya around." I wave and make for the locked door to the left of the front desk, and Arlene is one step ahead of me, buzzing me in. I open the door as soon as it unlocks, and make my way down toward the 'D' wing's nurses' station. I pass by several nurses I know who call out greetings to me, and I simply smile and wave at each one of them. I round the corner, and step up to the elevated countertop of the nurses' station. Mom's not in sight, but I stand there waiting, sure she'll be back any moment. She's probably checking on a patient before she clocks out for lunch.

"Well, oh my stars!…Look who's here!" recognizing the voice, I turn my head to the right as none other than Jobal Naberrie, just the lady I wanted to see, approaches me from the opposite hallway, a huge smile on her face. Slightly taller than her daughter, I am struck anew at just how much Padmé favors her mother. Same dark chestnut curls, same dark chocolate eyes, same nose and lips and chin. Padmé is like a slightly smaller version of her mother. I can't help thinking what incredible taste in women Mr. Naberrie and I _both_ have.

I grin back at her, "Hi Jobal! Nice to see you again! Hope you're doing well." I turn my upper body slightly, leaning my weight on my elbow as I face my mother's boss.

Jobal comes to stand next to me, propping her own elbow on the countertop, still smiling, "Doing fine. All's good. How's the hockey season going so far this year?" Jobal knows full well that I play hockey, and judging by the smile on her face as she asks, she definitely seems to approve of me, because her smile reaches her eyes, which are just as expressive as her daughter's.

"Well, we're only in preseason training right now. The season doesn't start until the end of September, but I'm team captain this year. Did Mom tell you?" I admit I feel a surge of pride rush through me as I talk to Jobal about my status on the team this year. I worked hard to get to this point. Damn hard, and I'm equally proud of our team as a whole this year. We've got a great shot at winning the conference – and the national collegiate title.

Jobal beams at me, "No! How wonderful, Anakin! That should boost your chances of going pro, yes? That's what you're hoping for, am I right?"

Nodding, I confirm this, "Yes, Ma'am! I'm hoping to get snatched up by the _Bruins._ I could've gone in the _NHL_ draft last year, but I promised Mom I'd finish college and get my degree. That way, if I suffered an injury or hockey didn't work out for me, I'd have my degree in mechanical engineering to fall back on. So far, I'm still on the Dean's List, so I hope to graduate near the top of my class."

Jobal crosses her arms over her chest, all the while smiling and nodding at me, "Yep. That's the smart way to do it. The Dean's List, too…Wow. Impressive, Anakin. Most impressive. And, with a degree in engineering, you can certainly go far in that field, if hockey doesn't end up working out for you, but you've always been a determined young man, hardworking…And, from what Shmi and my husband tell me, you're quite talented on the ice, too…So, I'm sure you're gonna make it into the _NHL,_ just like you're hoping to."

I puff my chest out a little more with pride at Jobal's praise, and from what I know of Jobal, she's not just blowing sunshine off my ass to make me feel good. She really means what she says. So, it sounds like Padmé's mom approves of me…at least as a person. Now, if I can convince her to like me as _boyfriend_ – and eventually _husband_ -material for her daughter…Well, all the better.

Returning her smile, I can't help the faint rush of heat I feel in my cheeks, "Thanks, Jobal. I appreciate it. Sounds like your husband is a _Terriers_ fan, eh?" I certainly hope he is. I've never met Mr. Naberrie, but if he enjoys hockey enough to know what my performance on the ice is like, then that bodes well for me, I'd say.

She chuckles and rolls her eyes, "Oh, is he _ever!_ He loves the _Bruins,_ too. He's been a big hockey fan for years and years. You definitely have that in common. It's annoyed him to no end that our girls never took a liking to the same sports he enjoys…y'know, football, baseball, basketball, and hockey. Fortunately, our son-in-law, Darred, loves those sports, _especially_ hockey, so he's got another guy around to bond with over the games." She shakes her head in amusement.

So, Mr. Naberrie sounds like a real 'man's man' kinda guy. Good. If he's also into cars at all, I have a feeling he and I would get along famously. "How many girls do you have?" Padmé must have at least one sister from the sounds of it.

She smiles, "We've got two daughters, Sola, our oldest. Darred's her husband, and our youngest, Padmé, who is actually at _BU_ where you attend. She's a senior herself this year. Do you know Padmé? She's majoring in political science, so maybe you've not crossed paths."

I manage to fake a look of surprise, arching my eyebrows, "Padmé Naberrie is _your_ daughter? Wow. Small world. I actually _do_ know her. We're in the same Greek history class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Her desk is right next to mine. Lovely young woman you've got there, and smart as a whip, too." I grin widely, genuine delight now shining in my eyes. True, not faking that one bit. But, not gonna deny I'm trying to score a few brownie points with Jobal either.

Jobal's face lights up like the Fourth of July fireworks, "Why thank you, Anakin! Of course, I'm biased, but I happen to agree with you! Padmé's always been a smart one. Made _Honor Society_ every year she was eligible in school, was valedictorian of her graduating class in high school. Always been driven. She wants to attend _Harvard Law School_ , like her father, after wrapping up her senior year at _BU."_

Ahhh…So, she wants to be a lawyer, eh? That doesn't surprise me in the least. And, no doubt she'll make a fine ass attorney when she's done with school and passes the bar. I also find that this tidbit of info about her stirs my interest even more, because she's undoubtedly _just_ as driven to succeed as I am. She's not afraid of a challenge, and she's used to hard work. All things we have in common. Excellent.

I keep adding more Pros to my mental checklist I've got going here.

Now, if I can just figure out what she's got against me personally…and see if it's only my rep that seems to repulse her.

"Wow. That's a great goal to have. She definitely seems driven enough to achieve it, at least if first impressions are anything to go by. But, while she may take after your husband in personality, she definitely has _your_ looks, Jobal. No denying where Padmé gets her beauty from."

I lay on the Skywalker charm nice and thick here, grin, twinkling blue eyes, and dimples…the whole nine yards, and work it does, judging by the blush that blooms on Jobal's face at my compliment. "Oh, you!" she laughs, shaking her head, but she definitely seems pleased…and proud, at my words. Now, don't get me wrong. The compliment _is_ genuinely sincere. Jobal is just as beautiful as her daughter, and looking at the Naberrie matriarch gives me a pretty good idea of just how Padmé herself will look in say…twenty-five years.

Fuck, I am _so_ damn lucky to be falling for such a glorious specimen of femininity as Padmé Naberrie. I just hope I'm the man blessed to claim her as my own…from now through the next twenty-five years and beyond.

And I strangely find that thinking long term...marriage, twenty-five years and _beyond_...it's really not as frightening or as scary as I thought it'd be. At least not in regards to Padmé.

"I mean it! Seriously." I smile, hoping to convey my sincerity.

I think it works, because Jobal smiles, "I know you do, Anakin. One thing Shmi has always assured me of – and I can just tell from the times I've been around you myself – is that you're _not_ a liar. You're a straight shooter, Anakin, and I like that about you."

Well, she's absolutely right about that. It's also amusing to me that her word choice is so similar to her daughter's assessment of me… _Slap Shot._ That's fucking hilarious.

At that moment, I hear my mother's voice calling out, "Ani! Sweetheart! You're early!"

Turning, I see my mother walking toward the nurses' station, a huge smile on her sweet face. I can't help the answering smile that breaks out on my own face. I love my mother so much, and honestly, I could kick myself in the ass for not doing this sooner…y'know, taking my mother out to lunch once a week. She certainly deserves it, and I am _such_ a heel for not thinking of this before now. But, at least Padmé's presence is inspiring change in me in even this area. So, change is good. Very much so.

Fuck yeah! More Pros.

"Hey, Mom. Yep. Our professor let class out early. So, here I am. Are you about ready for lunch?"

"Yep! I sure am! Oh, hi, Jobal. I see you've been talking to my son." Mom busies herself at her desk, filing away a couple of folders, and straightening things up.

"Hi, Shmi. Yes, we've been having a lovely chat, haven't we, Anakin?" Jobal smiles at me, arching her eyebrows once more. I just nod in return, smiling at both ladies.

Glancing at me and giving me a knowing grin, Mom looks over at Jobal, "So, Jobal, Anakin and I were going to head out and grab some lunch. Would you and Padmé like to join us? She should be here shortly, right?"

Jobal seems to consider Mom's offer, and deep in my gut, I'm thinking, _Please say yes! Please say yes! Please. Say. Yes!_ Finally, after what feels like forever, she beams at us, "Why thank you! That sounds like a lovely idea! Padmé should be here any minute now. She texted me when she got out of class."

 _Hot Damn! Yaaaasss!_

I can't hide the near blinding grin that I know is about to split my face in half. Jobal doesn't know it, but she just made my whole fucking day with those words. Mom must realize this, because she smiles, "Wonderful! Did you know Padmé and Anakin are in the same class together on Tuesdays and Thursdays? What class was it again, Ani?" Mom arches her eyebrows at me questioningly.

"Greek History," I reply, still smiling broadly.

Jobal smiles, "Yes, he did, actually. That's so amazing, isn't it? He said he sits right next to her in class but had no idea she was _my_ daughter. That's too funny, huh?" Both of our mothers shake their heads and laugh over this coincidence…Or was it more like _Fate?_

I prefer to think it was fate intervening. I don't like to think meeting Padmé was pure luck or happenstance.

Not when I feel _this_ strongly about her already.

Mom's answering grin is nearly infectious, "Oh I know! I have a picture from Janice's retirement party on my fridge at home – and Padmé's in it, and when Anakin saw it on Saturday, he was shocked that I knew Padmé, and frankly, I was surprised to hear he knew her."

Jobal's own laughter rings out, and she clasps her hands together, her nose wrinkling in that same cute way her daughter's does, "Oh, that _is_ a hoot, isn't it? Maybe we should've gotten our kids to meet up before now, huh, Shmi?"

What the fuck?!

I glance back and forth between our mothers, and I can't help but notice the appraising look on both their faces as they consider me…and then look knowingly at each other with a conniving _Uh-huh, you know it_ look passing between them.

Ok, granted…I appreciate their maternal help and can't say that I disagree with them at all, _but_ I gotta say, if I wasn't already on the make for Padmé, that look they just shared would've sent fucking chills down my spine. No lie.

Unfortunately, I don't get the opportunity to reply, because at that moment, a very annoyed sounding feminine voice reaches our collective ears, and she sounds less than enthused at the presence of yours truly here.

"Anakin?! What the hell are _you_ doing here?"


	7. Chapter 7

**The Goal: Chapter 7**

* * *

 ** _Padmé Naberrie_**

Glancing at my watch, I scurry across campus to get to my car.

My morning class got out a little later than scheduled, and as such, I'm running behind, which is a pain since I'm meeting my mother for lunch today. After lunch, I have to head _back_ to campus for my second and last class of the day. At least I don't have to give Brent a ride home this afternoon, though I did swing by his place and pick him up this morning to give him a ride to class as his car's in the shop.

Brent Brooks is a good friend of mine. He's a senior, majoring in Communications with a focus on PR. We met at the start of our sophomore year when we both took the same classes about understanding and working with the media. He's also got a strong interest in politics, like I do, and we've gotten along great from the day we met. He's a super nice guy with the most hilarious sense of humor. A Massachusetts native from the western part of the state, he's tall at about six feet, leanly muscled, with light brown hair, hazel eyes, and a nice smile. A bit of a jokester, we tend to crack each other up all the time. Yeah, he's good looking, I admit. Dormé says he's ' _hot,_ ' but there's just no real physical attraction between us. I mean, yeah, we briefly dated for a couple of months after we met, but it was just casual, friendly dating. Nothing serious, and we both knew that. I mean, yeah, we kissed and held hands, stuff like that, but, though he's a _great_ kisser, there was just no spark there. At least not with _me._

Now, with _Sabé,_ on the other hand, it was a totally different story. Brent fell for her like a ton of bricks the moment I first introduced them. Unfortunately, to this point in time, Sabé's been completely oblivious – or at least pretending to be - to Brent's feelings for her, and she keeps insisting that they're 'just friends,' despite me and Dormé doing anything and everything we can to bring them together. Poor guy. I've sat through more than one cup of coffee and more than one late night phone or _Skype_ call in the last two years listening to him pour his heart out to me about my roommate. Sabé doesn't realize – or she's too scared to admit – just how perfect she and Brent are together.

I wish _I_ could find a guy as sweet, lovingly adorable, funny, and with half the intelligence that Brent has. So far, though, no such luck.

 _What about Anakin Skywalker?_

The unbidden question from somewhere within the depths of my mind whispers almost teasingly to me, causing me to stop in my tracks with a scowl. _No!_ I internally yell at myself. I am _not_ attracted to that…that…sex crazed _Horneo_ of the ice! Granted, he's the most gorgeous hunk of man on two legs I've _ever_ seen, but good looks aren't everything, and while it's obvious after our last class that he's got a brain that actually works – shocker! – that doesn't negate the fact he's got the reputation of a prowling Tom cat, proving beyond a shadow of a doubt to me that athletes and committed relationships _don't_ mix, just as I've always said. Honestly, as notorious as the tales about him are, it's a wonder his raging testosterone levels don't melt the ice the second he steps on it. _Fidelity, faithfulness, and monogamy are three words I doubt Skywalker even knows the meaning of_ , I can't help thinking on a snort. Seriously, the man is like a walking, talking dose of _Viagra._ Shaking my head with a huff, I resume my clipped pace to my car.

Reaching my red _Prius,_ I quickly unlock it, open the rear driver's side door, dump my computer bag in the seat, before shutting the door and then climbing in behind the wheel. I set my purse on the front passenger seat and start up the engine before buckling my seatbelt. If I want to get to the senior center in time for lunch, I have to book it. Putting the car in reverse, I back out of my parking spot, then put the car in drive and head out of the lot and onto the road. Smiling, I am looking forward to lunch with my mother. I always do. She's intelligent, well organized, detail oriented, meticulous to a fault in doing her job, a loving wife and mother, a good friend, supportive listener, hardworking, and a real joy to be around…In short, she's _all_ the things I've always longed to be as an adult myself. I strive to emulate my mother and her wonderful example as much as possible, and in so many ways, she's as driven as my _Harvard_ educated attorney father is, and I would hate to ever disappoint either of my parents.

I know they want me to be happy, and I am. _Well,_ I admit I'm happy with my studies and my plans for attending _Harvard Law School_ starting next fall. Eventually, I hope to pass the bar and work at my family's law firm. It was started by my dad's great-grandfather, and my own grandfather and my dad subsequently followed in his footsteps. I intend to do the same. Sola, my older sister, opted to pursue a degree in education and works as an elementary school teacher. Her husband, Darred, is an architect working for a prominent firm here in Boston.

So, yeah, my dad's thrilled that I've chosen to follow in his footsteps in my chosen career path.

But, I know my folks also wish I'd meet a nice guy, get married, and settle down, too. They want more grandchildren. Sola and Darred have two adorable little girls, Ryoo and Pooja, now eight and five respectively, but I know my dad would _love_ to have a grandson. And, up to this point in time, I've dated casually, but I've always been too focused on my studies to really have the time for a serious relationship. Don't get me wrong…if the right guy for me came along today, I'd happily get married in a heartbeat. I admit I envy what my sister and Darred and my parents all have. They radiate a love so deep and so pure for each other that sometimes I feel like a third wheel in my own family. But honestly, I've just not met _any_ guy that I was _so_ attracted to he like…blew me out of the water, so to speak. Not yet anyway.

 _Oh, but Ana-…_

"Shut up!"I mutter out loud to that traitorous voice whispering softly in my head, refusing to even speak _his_ name. I will not allow thoughts of _him_ to ruin a perfectly beautiful early autumn day or the good mood I've been in this morning. It's bad enough I have to face him for 'Round Three' tomorrow morning, and I can't help the slight grimace that sweeps across my face at _that_ thought. He says _I_ upped the ante – and that he refuses to give up. Straightening in my seat, I flex my fingers crossly on the steering wheel as I maneuver through traffic. _Hmph_ …Well, he doesn't realize just _who_ he's up against then. He may not be willing to give up…but I'm not willing to give _in_ either. Neither of us are quitters, apparently, which means…we're at a stalemate, neither willing to admit defeat, neither willing to give in or give up. And, it's about damn time _someone_ knocked that arrogant, cocky Mr. High and Mighty on his ass.

And, that someone is going to be _me._

But, that's a confrontation for another day. For now, I can concentrate on having an enjoyable lunch out with my mother. Smiling again, I roll down my window to feel the crisp fresh breeze blowing against my skin as I drive through the noonday traffic, determined to push any and all thoughts of Anakin Skywalker from my mind. Nope. This is an absolutely glorious day, and I intend to enjoy every second of it.

Unfortunately, I didn't figure Fate into the mix.

And, dammit, I _should_ have.

* * *

I pull into the parking lot of the senior center, drive around to the side of the building where the employees park, find a spot, and park my car. I climb out and open the rear passenger door, grabbing my computer bag, then popping the trunk open and depositing my computer bag in there before shutting all the doors and locking my car. I open my purse and dig out my cardkey to enter the building. Since I volunteer here, Mom arranged for me to have my own cardkey so I could simply swipe it to enter in the secured employee entrance and thus bypassing the front receptionist's desk, which is certainly convenient, especially on days when I'm running late, like today.

Swiping my card, the door clicks, and I pull it open and walk inside, heading down the hallway toward my mother's office. Reaching Mom's door, I see it's open, and glancing inside, I twist my lips into a frown. Not there. Hmmm…Surely, she wouldn't have gone to the cafeteria to grab something. I mean, I texted her as soon as I got out of class to let her know I was running late but would be here shortly. Looking left and right, I don't see her anywhere. So, I stop and ask one of the ladies working in the billing office three doors down if she knows where Mom's gotten to. She smiles and says Mom was heading for the D wing the last she knew. Great. She's probably still there.

Knowing exactly where the D wing is, I thank her and then unerringly head through the hallways, knowing my way around in here like the back of my hand. Rounding the corner that leads to the main nurses' station at the large center kiosk area of the wing, I come to an abrupt halt, my jaw falling open in shock at the sight before me. All the air leaves my lungs in a sudden whoosh, and I know my eyebrows have shot up almost to my hairline, because I can feel my eyes growing big around as saucers.

I. Do. Not. Believe. This.

Shaking my head as if to clear it, all I can do is stare in shock at my mother's back and at Shmi Lars, one of the senior nurses who works here, a lady I've always liked and respected, as they talk and laugh with the very _last_ person in the world I expected or _want_ to see…None other than my newly designated nemesis, Anakin Skywalker himself, the jerk.

 _Shit!_

Feeling my whole body tense up instantly, I grit my teeth in utter frustration, and before I even realize I've spoken, my shocked declaration rips out from between my lips, my tone clearly dripping with annoyance, "Anakin?! What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

The sound of my voice, along with my choice of words no doubt, draws the attention of the three people standing in front of me, as they all turn to stare at me, my mother and Shmi looking surprised, Anakin merely amused. Watching the byplay of emotions on his face, I can clearly see the smug grin on his lips, along with the merriment dancing in his azure gaze. Both of which are at _my_ expense. Asshole.

"Padmé! That's not very nice of you to say! I'm surprised to hear you talk like that," my mother reprimands me, bewilderment clearly showing on her face, as she turns to face me with her arms now crossed, a stern look gracing her features.

Regret wars with frustrated annoyance within me, as I breach the distance to the nurses' station; regret at upsetting my mother, annoyance at _his_ presence here. "Sorry," Ok, I'm not _really_ , the annoyance winning out over any regrets, "I'm just a little _surprised_ to see Anakin here. I wasn't expecting to see him again until class tomorrow." My voice is clipped, my tone edging toward irritation, which makes my mother frown again, but I'm surprised to see an amused look flit across Shmi's face, oddly enough.

I arch my eyebrows, my gaze locking with Anakin's, my previously spoken question still hanging in the air, and to say I'm peeved to see the grin on his face grow even wider is an understatement. The fact I feel my heart racing at his close proximity and that I can't help but notice the way his blue eyes are practically twinkling from the sunlight pouring in through the nearby windows only annoys me further. "So, Anakin…What brings you _here,_ of all places? I mean," waving my hand to indicate the building, "it's not exactly a big draw for hipsters our age." _Or, hookups_ , I think to myself with a smirk.

Before Anakin can answer me, though, Shmi pipes up, "Oh, Anakin's here to see me, Padmé. You see, he's my son." Shmi's tone is pleasant, even mildly amused, and her own brown eyes are twinkling merrily when my head whips round for me to gawk at her in stunned amazement.

"Wh-what? Anakin is your _son,_ Shmi?! But, your last name is Lars!" I manage to say, shock overtaking me once more, leaving me staring at my mother's good friend in utter bewilderment.

Shmi just laughs and nods her head, "My last name was Skywalker before I got married. My husband, Cliegg, is Anakin's stepfather."

I try to absorb this information, only vaguely aware, as I turn once more to stare at Anakin again (whose grin has only gotten _wider_ , if that's possible), that my look is one of total astonishment. Chuckling at me now, it's obvious he's enjoying the fact this declaration has thrown me momentarily off balance. My mouth opens – and shuts – several times in silence, making me look like some kind of fish, I'm sure, but I'm totally flummoxed for a second. I never in a million years would have made the connection between Shmi and Anakin. For starters, they look absolutely _nothing_ alike. Anakin is the tall, well muscled golden poster boy of college hockey – all blond curls, tanned skin, and brilliant blue eyes, while his mother is almost the exact opposite, petite with dark hair and dark brown eyes, like me. The only physical resemblance they share is Shmi has the same tanned skin tone that Anakin does. Next, of course, is the name difference. I've never met any of Shmi's family, but then again, I've never asked her any specifics about her family either, other than her husband, Cliegg, who I know by name only. Lastly, Shmi is one of the sweetest, kindest, most caring ladies I know, whereas her son is a pompous, arrogant, cocky _jerk_ who thinks he's God's gift to the female gender.

Well, I must say _this_ is a shock of tectonic proportions – at least to _me._ And, I certainly didn't see it coming. And, the wolfish grin on his face at my obvious struggle to take this fact in and assimilate it speaks volumes…because there's no disguising either my shock or his absolute amusement at this _situation._ Glancing quickly at my mother once more, I notice the look she's giving me, pursed lips, frown firmly in place, narrowed eyes, flared nostrils, and I instantly recognize the _You'd better behave_ vibe coming off Mom in waves and immediately work to modulate both my shock and my tone to something more politely civil (if not exactly friendly), which seems to amuse Anakin that much further. Asshole.

Clearing my throat, I manage a somewhat stiff smile at Shmi, "Oh, I see. I just never knew you had any kids, Shmi. Certainly not such a… _well known_ son as Anakin…I mean, his _skills_ are practically legendary on campus, after all." I don't elaborate as to what _skills_ I'm referring to. No need to go there with our mothers anyway. I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if Shmi isn't aware of her son's carousing reputation, but I'm pretty sure _my_ mother is clueless. Flicking my gaze to Anakin to gauge his reaction to my comment, I see his eyebrows arch almost to his hairline before an amused smirk works its way across his lips – and mirth dances in his eyes. Yeah, he gets what I'm _really_ saying. The jerk. Coolly meeting his look head on, I arch one brow in challenge, practically _daring_ him to say anything.

But, the man manages to surprise me by not saying anything in rebuttal to my veiled barb. Instead, he turns to our mothers with a genuine smile in place, and says, "Well, I don't know about Padmé here, but _I_ have to be back on campus for practice this afternoon, and I have some research to do for a project in one of my design classes before that, so if we're going to go to lunch, _Ladies_ , we'd better head out now."

Wait. What? Did I hear him right?! Are the _four_ of us actually…

"Yes, Dear…let me just grab my purse. I can drive…My _Rogue_ will hold all four of us," Shmi offers with a smile, and I dart my eyes quickly to my mother, who is nodding in total agreement.

 _Oh shit!_ Apparently, we _are_ going out to lunch together!

Damn!

Before I can do or say anything, my mother smoothly replies, "Sounds good to me. Let me just stop by my office to grab my purse. Shmi, why don't you and Anakin head to your car, and Padmé and I will meet you outside. Sweetie, come with me, please."

As Mom directs her first comments over her shoulder, she walks over to me as she makes her last statement, grabs my arm and spins me so I end up walking along with her toward her office, and the grip she has on my elbow lets me know she has a few choice words for me in private before we head off to lunch. Great. Just great. Another unwanted surprise today…A lecture. From my mother.

Perfect. _Not._

"Of course, Jobal. Meet you at the car," Shmi says, as I hear the rattling of keys, along with the soft footfall of footsteps behind us. Shmi and Anakin follow us down the hall, heading for the employee entrance I came in not long ago, and I swear with every step I take I can practically _feel_ his eyes glued to my backside and envision the feral grin plastered on his handsome face. At the turn off to her office, Anakin and Shmi continue on their way to the back door, while Mom steps in her office, pulling me behind her and shutting the door before releasing me to step around her desk to retrieve her purse. Before she does, however, she plants her fingertips on her desk and gives me a stern look. Sighing inwardly, I resist the urge to roll my eyes. _Here it comes._

"Young lady, I am both surprised and disappointed in your behavior just now. You were _not_ raised to behave in such a manner with such blatant rudeness, Padmé." Mom pauses in her reprimand to cross her arms over her chest. "You've always gotten along so well with Shmi. And, you know Anakin from school. So, what, exactly, is your problem, huh?" The look she gives me informs me I'd better be upfront and honest.

I bite my bottom lip for a second, glancing at the floor, trying to formulate the right words to say…then, realizing I'll have to fess up to what's _really_ going on here, I sigh and look my mother square in the eye, and open up. "Mom, I do like Shmi. Honest, I really _do,_ but this isn't about her. It's about her son." My lips twist to the side in a sign of annoyance, and I can't stop the frown I feel growing on my face. I cross my arms over my chest, cock my hip, and without even realizing it, I start tapping my right foot on the floor, a long-held habit I have that usually indicates either my extreme nervousness…or my agitation. Right now, it's agitation.

"Anakin? I've known him for years! He's a sweetheart! What in the world could you possibly have against him?"

Mom's look of surprise isn't that surprising. I told you I doubted she was aware of his reputation as a notorious womanizer. I shake my head, "Mom…are you aware of his _reputation?"_ I tilt my head toward my mother, my look speaking volumes.

Frowning, Mom shakes her head, "Do you mean his game on the ice? I know he's the _Terriers'_ team captain this year, and that he's brilliantly intelligent and on the Dean's List at college. Why? What are _you_ talking about, Dear?"

Great…I just knew my mother was clueless. Snorting, I roll my eyes before explaining, " _No, Mother._ This isn't about hockey…Well, wrong…it _is_ , but it's actually more than that. Much more." I realize my answer is cryptic just by the _What the hell does that mean?_ look on Mom's face. Sighing, I open my mouth to explain further, "Mom, Anakin is an athlete _._ Ok? A _star_ athlete at that, and let's just say his 'game' is just as notorious _off_ the ice as it is on it, if not more so." I give her a very pointed look this time, a look that clearly implies exactly what I know she now gets, because her eyes widen, and her mouth falls open into an 'o,' and she drops her arms slowly to brace her hands flat on her desk.

"You mean he's a, uh, a…," Mom seems to grapple with finding the correct _term._ So, I decide to help her out.

Nodding my head affirmatively, I put it rather bluntly, "Yes. He's what you'd call a womanizer or a philanderer. Today, they're called ' _manwhores,'_ and as the star of the uni's hockey team, he's well known for using his rather renowned athletic status to…uhm, _skate his way_ , shall we say, through practically the entire female population at _BU._ "

Mom frowns at my explanation, "Seriously? He's got _that_ kind of reputation?"

Nodding again, I confirm what I've just stated, "Yes. He does. If he were a feline, he'd make a Tom cat look celibate. He's often seen around campus with a different woman on his arm _every day,_ and let's just say that, from what _I've_ overheard others say about him, his _only_ interests in life are hockey and sex, not necessarily in that order either." I know derision shades my explanation, but I want to be sure my mother understands the score here.

Shaking her head, Mom looks confused, "Ok, I was unaware of that, but what's that got to do with _you,_ Sweetie?"

"Mom, from the moment that we first saw each other in class last week, he's been blatantly flirting with me and hitting on me," sighing again, I try to explain exactly what has transpired between us to this point, aware that frustration colors my every word, "Before and after class last week, he engaged me in…what is almost like a standoff, though he'd likely call it a 'faceoff,' I'm sure, and despite the fact that I've made my disinterest in him patently obvious, he's refusing to give up this ridiculous attempt of his to…to… _bed me_ and mark me down as just another notch on his hockey stick, I'm sure! Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if he carries an entire _box_ of condoms with him in his backpack everywhere he goes, ready to go for it at the drop of a puck, if you will. And, come on, Mom! _You_ always told me growing up that my body was a _gift_ I should wait to give to a man who really _loved_ me and not open my legs up to just any guy who wants to use me so _he_ could get off!" Ending my explanation with a huff, I am dismayed to feel a tightening in my belly as I fight a surge of genuine anger I feel at the mere _thought_ of Anakin using all those condoms with a bunch of different faceless females. _No, no, no, noooo…Stop that! Do not go there!_ I mentally warn myself with another frown.

Mom sighs deeply and nods her head for a second before she reaches down, opens her bottom desk drawer, and grabs her purse. Standing back up, she pauses and considers me for a long moment, her alert brown eyes sharply focused. Squirming under her assessing gaze, I wipe the frown off my face and deliberately shoot her a neutral expression. "What?" I ask, standing there with my hands now shoved in my front overall pockets.

Mom continues to watch me for another long moment before a small smile plays about her lips and an amused twinkle appears deep in her eyes, "Oh, I just wonder…why does his reputation bother you so much? I mean, you've firmly stated _you_ have no interest in _him._ So, why would you care if he's got that kind of reputation? I mean, it obviously doesn't concern _you_ since you have no desire to be with him, right?" she shrugs at me, her look now just as amused as Shmi's was earlier.

Snorting, I glance away toward the bookshelf on the left side of the room and refuse to meet my mother's intense gaze, "It _doesn't_ bother me! I mean, he can screw whoever he wants. It's none of _my_ business. I just refuse to be his next conquest, that's all. I've been there, done that with a guy like him before…and got burned. Badly. Remember? I learned my lesson. And I have _no_ intention of dating another guy like that again, Mom. I know better."

Just thinking of that incident in my past, I feel the burn of tears in the back of my eyes, and I have to fight to keep them from spilling over. I don't need to look at Mom to know she's thinking about the same thing I am right now. Her deep sigh says it all, and her voice is quiet and her tone sad when she speaks, "Padmé…you _need_ to let it go. Just because that one guy hurt you doesn't mean that _all_ guys will do the same thing, and Anakin, despite his reputation, _is_ a really nice guy, and he definitely seems to genuinely like _you."_

I whip my head around at these words, gawking at my mother, my mouth hanging open in surprise. Surely Mom doesn't buy that crap, does she? Before I can utter a sound, however, she holds up a hand, forestalling my biting retort, and continues speaking, "I know you're going to tell me he doesn't, but I told you…I've known Anakin for _years._ Literally. He may be a lot of things - most men, to be quite frank, are many things, but one thing Anakin isn't is a _liar_ , and he spoke of you _very_ highly before you arrived. I could hear the truth in his voice and see his sincerity in his eyes when he said it. And, as you well know, I am nobody's fool."

Yes, I'm aware of that, _but_ my mother also tends to overlook people's faults…if you could call his raging libido a _fault_ , which I do. However, I was gullible just once in my life…and was hurt like I've _never_ been hurt either before or since. I have no desire to open myself up to even the _risk_ of repeating that again – and Anakin's inability to keep it in his pants speaks volumes to me of just how high a risk he is. And, I have no intention of going there, and remind my mother of this. "Mom, he is an _athlete._ You know as well as I do that male athletes, at least those in organized professional sports, are horny bastards hocked up on testosterone – and seek to play the field as far and wide as they can. Have you ever looked at the divorce rates amongst male professional athletes? _I_ have, and let me tell you, male athletes and committed monogamous relationships do _not_ mix!" I finish my statement fiercely, fighting tooth and nail to ignore that little voice in my head that keeps whispering his name to me over and over again.

Mom shoulders her purse and tilts her head, continuing to watch me, "Yes, well…Just because you got burned by one athlete, who I admit was _far_ from a gentleman in more ways than one, doesn't mean that _all_ male athletes are like that, but…" I snort and shake my head, giving my mother an incredulous look but say nothing as she continues speaking, "…to be bluntly honest, Dear, Anakin isn't the _only_ man in the world who's behaved in such a way. What I mean is…as charming and sweet and handsome as he is, I have a feeling he'd draw in females whether he was an athlete or not, and while I can't say I _condone_ such behavior, no, he _is_ a single adult over the age of eighteen and knowing him as I do, each of these _encounters_ of his, shall we say, was undoubtedly consensual, I'm sure."

I start spluttering in shock. My mother is actually _defending_ him?! I can't believe this! I mean, seriously?

"Moth-" I begin only to have my parent cut me off with a wave of her hand.

"Padmé, I love you, and because I love you, I'm going to tell you the honest truth. Even if it hurts. Now, his past behavior is what it is. I agree it is rather distasteful, yes, but it cannot be changed; however, that doesn't mean that the man _himself_ cannot change, given the right impetus," At the look of skepticism on my face, my mother shakes her head and sighs. "Listen, Dear…I think I've got a bit more experience than you do in dealing with men. Ok? The simple fact is the vast majority of men actually play the field to one degree or another before they finally settle down to domesticity. Now, true, some men never settle down, but I don't believe Anakin falls into that category. Like I've said, I've known him for years, and he's been raised right in a good home, has a level head on his shoulders, is a loving son to his family, and is a hardworking, driven young man with many outstanding qualities that I've seen for myself firsthand. Besides, it's rather unfair of _you_ to judge _him_ for his past life choices that, quite frankly, aren't really any of _your_ business as they didn't involve you. And, if you really have no interest in the man, then they _still_ don't concern you, and you shouldn't worry about it one way or the other anyway."

My eyebrows hit my hairline as my mouth falls open in stunned disbelief at my mother's harsh remarks. But, she's not done yet. Unfortunately.

Completely nonplussed at my expression, Mom continues unabated, "Well, it's the truth, Dear. What he's done before meeting you isn't any of _your_ business. Just like your past isn't really any of _his_ business either. When you come into a relationship, it's best to start off with a clean slate and build on that, rather than bringing old baggage with you. And, Sweetie, whether you acknowledge it or not, you are _still_ carrying around a ton of old baggage that you should just let go, because you're using it as an excuse to avoid contact with nice guys like Anakin." She holds up a hand, indicating she's got more yet to say. "And, yes, Anakin _is_ a nice guy. I'm not saying you have to date him, no. But, you _should_ give him the courtesy of at least being polite to him when you do cross paths, because I didn't raise you to be rude to people. Now, let's go to lunch. I'm sure Shmi and Anakin are wondering what the holdup is."

Mom moves out from behind her desk and heads straight for the door, leaving me to turn and trail along behind her. Admittedly, doing as my mother suggests is the very _last_ thing I want to do. But, the sharp rebuke is timely, considering I'll have to endure lunch today…plus another faceoff or two with him tomorrow at class. Following in Mom's wake, I stew over everything she said. Shit, why does the truth always have to hurt so much? I mean, logically, I know Mom's right. She usually is, after all. I _have_ been holding onto the past when I needed to let it go. And, to be fair, it's not Anakin's fault what happened to me before. He's not the one who hurt me. But, I still have no desire to be his next conquest either. Some girls may look at sex as just something fun to do – no matter who it is they're doing it with, but I'm not one of them. My parents' teachings in regard to my sexuality are too ingrained in me to change them, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I've always intended to wait to have sex until I knew I'd found the one man I truly wanted to spend the rest of my life with, and that's the way it's going to stay. No, that doesn't mean I'm waiting for our wedding night to give my body to him, but if it does end up happening that way, so be it. To my way of thinking, a bride couldn't give her new husband a more special wedding gift than her V card. That's old-fashioned thinking to millennial's, I know, but that's just how I was raised. A zebra can't change its stripes, after all, right?

Mom and I walk out the back door to find Shmi's dark orange _Rogue_ sitting silently waiting for us. Shmi's behind the wheel, while Anakin is in the front passenger seat, leaving Mom and me to climb into the back. I step around my mother to grab the right rear passenger door, opening it and sliding in to sit directly behind Anakin. From my seat behind him, it'll make it rather difficult for him to twist around to look at me. Good. The less eye contact I have with his baby blues, the better. Because just looking into his crystal clear cerulean gaze causes heat to suffuse my body, and I'm definitely _not_ comfortable with that idea in the least.

Nor would I admit to that if asked. No doubt _he'd_ relish that knowledge and use that little detail against me in some form or fashion, but I'll be damned if he'll hear it from _me._

Mom climbs in the back seat beside me, shutting her door, and Shmi turns on the car, "Are we all set? I mean, that took several minutes, Jobal…Will we have enough time for a sit down lunch or do we need to just get it to go and come back to the center?" I see Shmi glance at my mother in the rear view before I flick my gaze over to Mom to gauge her response.

Mom smiles and shakes her head, "No, Shmi. I had to take care of something right before we left, but we're good. We'll still have an hour for lunch. Don't worry. I'll authorize it." My lips twist in irritation, realizing just what it was Mom had to 'take care of.' _Me,_ I think with a scowl.

Reassured, Shmi just nods and puts the car in drive, and we head off for lunch. Of course, my stomach is in absolute knots right now, so I don't know how much, if anything, I'll be able to actually eat, because, on top of having to endure _his_ presence at the same table, I've now got all of my mother's comments to digest on top of it. Do I have any _Tums_ in my purse? Shit, I may need some after this lunch.

Staring out the window on the short drive to the restaurant, I chew on my bottom lip and mull over everything Mom said. She's given me much to think about, and as we pull into the parking lot, I admit I'm still processing it all and haven't come to any clear consensus about how to proceed from here. I mean, yeah, he's a bronzed blond Adonis and the most gorgeous guy I've ever met, but that doesn't change the fact that he's still got the baddest bad boy rep on campus – and I still refuse to be just another piece of ass for him to fuck. I don't care _how_ nice of a guy he is, how intelligent he is, or how much he loves his mother. He's _not_ getting a piece of me, and that's _not_ going to change. I will attempt to be civil with the man, but anything beyond that is off the table, as far as I'm concerned.

 _Liar,_ that little voice now whispers mockingly in my head, sounding far more amused than I feel, to be sure. _Face it…You want him, and if you're honest with yourself, that's not going to change._

 _Shut up!_ I yell at myself in my own head, scowling as I actually hear my own laughter ringing back at me in my mind, mocking me. I fight back a groan as I unhook my seatbelt. But, before I can grab the handle to open the door, I'm surprised to find Anakin has opened it for me already, and I glance down in surprise to see his open palm held out to me in an unspoken offer of assistance to step out of the shooting my eyes up to his, I see a wide smile gracing his lips that's, for once, not smug and genuine friendliness in his eyes. Whoa. Now _that's_ a bit of a surprise to see.

"Allow me to assist you, Padmé," he says in that honeyed voice that makes my knees go weak. Swallowing hard, I have to fight a sudden barrage of butterflies attacking my gut. Reaching out, I tentatively put my hand in his, and as soon as our skin touches, I swear I feel an electric type shock race up my arm, and a shudder racks my slender frame. I'm also mortified to feel my nipples harden into diamond chips, and I'm thankful I'm wearing what I am today and that the bib of my overalls hides this fact from his appraising view.

I hear an audible gasp, soft though it is, and I can't stop myself from glancing up at him, and I'm rather surprised to see a look of... _awe_ , _maybe?..._ on his face and in his eyes. What's more, he doesn't try to hide it either. He knows I see it, and it's like he _wants_ me to know he's affected by our skin touching. I step out of the vehicle, and I murmur a quiet _thank you_ to him for his help. He simply nods, a small smile working its way onto his face, as he shuts the door behind me. Stepping back from me, he bows his head and motions for me to precede him, "After you, Padmé." Once again, that smooth husky baritone washes over me, sending a little trill of pleasure down my spine, and not wanting to add fodder to the moment, I simply hold my head high, cross my arms over my chest, and walk briskly past him and around the front of the car, following along behind our mothers as we head for the sidewalk and the front entrance of the deli.

I feel him fall in step beside me, and out of the corner of my eye, I notice his hands are shoved in his front pockets, and he's watching the sidewalk as he walks, flicking his eyes over my way every few steps. He has a thoughtful look on his face, almost as if he's contemplating what just happened by the car.

 _Nothing happened!_ I tell myself forcefully, again ignoring the unbidden, yet seemingly automatic, response his nearness seems to elicit within my body. _Liar, liar, pants on fire,_ a sing-song voice erupts in my head, and I scowl at this blatant betrayal of my innermost self. At that moment, we reach the deli entrance, and Anakin steps around all of us with a smiling, "Ladies, allow me!" as he reaches for the door handle and pulls it open, holding it in a gentlemanly fashion for the three of us to enter ahead of him. Rolling my eyes, I huff and shake my head slightly, trying my damnedest to ignore the very real heat I suddenly feel pooling in my core when I accidentally brush up against Anakin when I step past him and through the door. A deep, soft chuckle reaches my ears, and I slowly turn to look back at him over my shoulder as he walks in the door behind me, and I see a look of utter delight sweep across his face before he grins at me, actually daring to shoot me a wink!

My eyes widen for a fraction of a second before I coolly arch an eyebrow at him, giving him an unamused look. Seeing the look on my face seems to amuse him, because he grins that much wider, giving me a smirk in return. Refusing to say anything, I simply narrow my eyes at him for a moment, before turning back to follow our mothers, who are already at the counter perusing the menu board. Reaching our parents, I stand next to my mother, deciding on a Greek grilled chicken salad with mixed greens, diced tomato, feta cheese, and black olives with a medium iced tea. Shmi and Mom place their respective orders, I place mine, then Anakin steps up next to me and places his own order, but before I can offer to pay for my own food at least, Anakin's deep baritone announces to the cashier, "This is all on one ticket," and then he's grabbing his wallet from his back pocket and handing a debit card over to the cashier, who swipes it and then hands it, plus the receipt, back to Anakin.

Surprised at his overture, I turn to blink up at him, my look blanked, and he simply smiles down at me, shrugging, as he repockets his wallet. He grabs the plastic number for our order to set on the table, and we move past the counter to head toward the booth our mothers have chosen to sit in. As we approach them, I can't help noticing that Mom and Shmi have slid into one side of the booth, forcing me to share the opposite seat with Anakin. My lips twist in annoyance as I slide into the booth, moving as far to the wall as I can, determinedly setting my purse down on the seat between my hip and Anakin's, who has just slid in beside me. He says nothing at my obvious attempt at avoiding touching him again, though I notice his lips twitch and the skin around his eyes crinkles in apparent amusement, as he sets the order number on the end of the table.

Mom places both of her hands on the tabletop, linking her fingers together, and she smiles kindly at Anakin, "Thank you for paying for lunch, Anakin. You didn't have to, but it's sweet of you to do so. I appreciate it."

Smiling himself, Anakin leans back in his seat, left arm lying on the table, his right hand resting on his rather massive thigh, and nods his head, "Oh, you're welcome, Jobal. It's my pleasure. I'm just glad you and Padmé could join us for lunch today, especially since I wasn't expecting to see her until class tomorrow."

Shmi pipes up, "Oh, it's still funny to me that the two of you knew each other from class, but didn't know you were _our_ kids," she motions to my mother with her left hand, "Amazing how that turned out." She smiles at her son and myself, and I can't help giving her a small smile in return. Shmi's really a nice lady. Just how _nice_ her son is, though, is still up in the air as far as I'm concerned, I admit.

She glances at my mother, "Don't you agree, Jobal?"

Mom nods her head, smiling away, "Oh, absolutely. Amazing how… _fate_ …seems to take matters into its own hands every now and again." Wait. What the hell does she mean by _that?_ Unfortunately, I can't ask her about it, because just as I open my mouth to blurt out that very question, our food and drinks arrive, courtesy of two smiling deli employees. As the food gets distributed, I glance at my mother only to see her narrow her eyes at me and mouth _Behave yourself_. My lips briefly twist again in vexation, but I _know_ that look. Mom means business. Inhaling sharply through my nose, I purse my lips and reach for my knife and fork to begin eating my salad. I think the best course of action for me at this point is simply to eat and shut up, keeping my comments to myself. After all, you're not supposed to talk with your mouth full, right? So, if I keep my mouth full and chew _really_ slowly…well, all the better to avoid contributing to this whole conversation.

But, the best laid plans always go awry, don't they? Yep.

Before I can fork my first bite, Anakin glances at me and smiles, "So, Padmé…Jobal tells me that you're planning to attend _Harvard Law_ next fall. She said you want to be an attorney like your dad. That's awesome. I think you've definitely got what it takes to achieve your goal." He grabs one half of his sandwich and takes a large bite, wiping his mouth with a napkin as he chews. His gaze is focused as he watches me, waiting for my reaction, and I admit, I'm surprised at the almost congenial tone in his voice. It's totally lacking any of his typical ego, again startling me.

Taking a bite of my salad, I chew slowly, which gives me a second to formulate a response. Swallowing, I wash my greens down with a sip of tea before I answer. Nodding a couple of times, my reply is simple, "Yes. I'm hoping to be accepted to _Harvard_. My father graduated from _Harvard Law_ , and I'd like to work with him at our family's law firm once I pass the bar."

Instead of a snarky comeback, he seems genuinely impressed instead, "That's nice. I'm sure your dad would like that a lot. How long will it take before you can finish law school and take the bar exam?" He takes another bite of his sandwich and just continues to watch me while he chews. Ok, who in the hell is _this_ guy? This is _not_ the Anakin Skywalker I know and despise. He's not being cocky, arrogant, _or_ a smart ass right now. He's actually acting like…a nice guy. To say that's unexpected coming from him is a huge understatement, and it knocks me for a proverbial loop.

Glancing at our mothers first, I see equal looks of attentiveness on their faces as well, as they each take bites of their own meals. Looking back at Anakin, I watch as he takes a sip of his _Coke,_ waiting patiently for my response, and peering into his eyes, I see nothing but genuine interest in his gaze. And, do I also see a hint of _admiration_ there? Not willing to think on that possibility, I merely give a half shrug with my right shoulder as I answer his question, "About three years to get my _Juris Doctor._ I need to graduate with a high GPA from _BU_ first. But, I'll get there."

Nodding once more, he turns back to his meal, picking up a forkful of potato salad, "I'm sure you will. Your mother was telling me what a determined young woman you are, and I'd have to agree with her based on our class interactions to date."

I slowly turn my head to look at his profile, as he continues to eat his meal, his eyes on his plate. Ok, the compliment is a surprise, but I also detect the faintest whiff of… _something else_ in his comment. He's obviously referring to our 'faceoff's' before and after class with his last words there. Not that either of our mothers would know that. Judging from the benign smiles on their faces, they totally missed it. Doesn't matter. _I_ get it, which is what he intended anyway, I'm sure. Only question is: Is he being derogatory or approbatory? Maybe a bit of both? Not sure, but I decide to let it go, for the sake of forgoing an argument – not to mention another lecture from my mother. So, I respond with a simple thank you and go back to eating my own meal.

Silence descends on the table for several minutes, as we enjoy our food; although, I am highly cognizant of Anakin sitting next to me, despite my purse separating us, which still makes me rather uncomfortable and makes the silence seem somewhat stilted to me. Then, Mom picks up the conversation again, once more directing her words toward Anakin, "So…when is your first home game this season, Anakin? I'm sure my husband and son-in-law would like to come see the game."

Lifting his head, he swallows the bite in his mouth, and the smile that lights up his face – and his eyes – is brilliant to say the least at the mention of one of his two great _loves_. I grimace internally at just what his other _great_ _love_ notoriously is before pushing that thought away forcibly. Not going there. Taking another bite of chicken, I chew slowly as I listen to the conversation. "Oh, our first home game is against _Union_ on September 30th. Then we have an exhibition game the next day against _Prince Edward Island_. I'm sure they could still get tickets to either of those games." He positively vibrates from excitement at discussing his favorite _team_ sport. I can't help wondering if he'd radiate this much _passion_ for his favorite one on one _sport._ Hmmm, prob _-…Stop that! Don't think about it!_

Forcing my attention back to the conversation, I realize that Mom, Shmi, and Anakin are all staring at me expectantly. Uh, did I miss something? "What?" I ask, obviously momentarily confused.

Mom rolls her eyes and shoots me a mildly exasperated look, "Sweetie, Anakin asked you if you'd be coming to the _Terriers'_ season opener. I know you've gone to games with your friends before in previous seasons. Doesn't Brent like hockey?"

For some strange reason, I feel Anakin tensing slightly at Mom's comments, and I frown for a second. But, when I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, he seems completely unaffected, his expression unchanged, making me wonder if I'd just imagined it. Nodding, I reply, "Yeah. Brent _loves_ hockey. Actually, he's good friends with Caiden, who's also on the team. So, we've been to a few games in the past to support him."

At this comment, Anakin's head whips round and he stares at me in mild surprise, his eyes going wide, his mouth falling open slightly, "Do you mean Caiden West?"

Turning my head to look him square in the eye, I nod, "Yeah. He and Brent went to high school together. They've been friends for years. Caiden's actually dating one of my good friends, Teckla."

"I've actually met Teckla before. Sweet girl, but who's Brent?" he asks, a slight frown marring his handsome features.

Before I can answer, Mom pipes up with a laugh, "Oh, Brent Brooks. He and Padmé have dated quite a bit before. He's a Communications major at _BU._ Right, Padmé? _"_

Ok, at this statement, I definitely feel Anakin's leg muscles tensing up, and I notice the muscles of his left arm bulging somewhat as he curls his fingers into a slight fist. Quickly glancing at his face, I notice his eyes are slightly narrowed and his nostrils flared and his lips have flattened into a thin line. What in the world? Why is he behaving in such a manner? Clearing his throat, a small, rather forced smile appears on his lips, for once not reaching his eyes, which seem to have darkened from their normal brilliant topaz to the color of angry storm clouds, "I didn't realize you were dating anyone, Padmé. Is he a senior? I wonder if I've met him before since he's good friends with Caiden. What does he look like?" He arches a blond brow at me, but the skin around his eyes twitches as he does, like he's bracing for bad news or something. Strange.

Then it hits me like a ton of bricks…He's acting like he's _jealous!_ It takes everything in me to keep my jaw from dropping to the floor or the shock from registering on my face. You've gotta be kiddin' me! Anakin 'Fuckmeister' Skywalker, _the_ Bronzed Babe Banger of all _BU_ actually jealous?...Over _me?!_ For real?! No way, that's preposterous! I mean, what could he possibly be jealous over? More to the point, _why_ the hell would he be jealous? I mean, yeah…he's made it _more_ than obvious he wants to bang me like he has every other female around campus…But, women don't mean anything else to him beyond a quick fuck! Like I've said, his rep is notorious for his 'love 'em and leave 'em' ways. So, why would he care about _my_ dating life? I gotta be misreading his signals here.

Certain I'm wrong in my initial assessment, I tilt my head and arch my eyebrows a bit before answering, "Brent's a senior. We've actually taken some classes together. He's tall, about your height I'd wager with short, light brown hair, hazel eyes. He spends a lot of time with Caiden, so it wouldn't surprise me if you'd met him before. But, we're not dating anymore. We're just really good friends."

Mom throws out another question, "Didn't you have to give Brent a ride to school this morning, Sweetie?"

Once again, I nod, confirming this, "Yeah. His car's in the shop. Since we both had class this morning, I swung by and picked him up. He and I walked to class together this morning."

And, just like that, the tension in Anakin's frame seems to melt away almost faster than it came, leaving me to look at him in confusion, unsure why he's acting so dang _weird_ all of a sudden. He smiles again, and this time his eyes are twinkling merrily, as if he finds something utterly amusing, "Y'know, I think I _have_ crossed paths with Brent before. He loves to laugh, if I remember correctly. Wow. Small world, eh?"

Our mothers laugh and agree with him that, indeed, it is a small world. I'm still confused, feeling that I've just missed something, considering the satisfied grin now plastered on the Ice Man's face as he finishes the last bite of his sandwich. Shaking off my thoughts, I quickly finish my own lunch, as Mom glances at her watch and announces that we need to head back to the center. We gather up our lunch trays and head for the exit, dumping our trash into the receptacle before heading out the door. Mom and Shmi are walking along ahead of us, Anakin once more falling into step beside me. He seems much more relaxed than he did before, which admittedly makes me wary, but I pretend to ignore him as we silently walk along the sidewalk, heading for the parking lot. Of course, with every step we take, I can't help feeling hyperaware of the muscled mass of raw masculinity at my side. I may not like the man, true, but dammit, I'm not _blind_ here. As a faint breeze brushes past us, I catch a faint whiff of the air and sniff…Recognizing instantly the scent of his cologne in my nostrils, and much to my chagrin, I feel my nipples harden and heat building in my core once more, and I stifle a moan, biting my bottom lip hard to keep it in.

No, I can't allow myself to feel this way, dammit! Not for _him!_

We reach Shmi's car. She hits the key fob, and once again, Anakin reaches down to open my door for me, extending his hand out to assist me in climbing in the car. Not completely caught unawares by his show of chivalry this time, I accept his proffered hand with a taciturn tilt of my head to show my thanks, receiving another gleaming grin in response. Once I'm seated, he shuts the door with a snap before climbing into his own seat in front of me. Once our mothers are each settled in their respective seats, Shmi fires up the engine and backs out of our parking spot before turning and heading off into traffic.

I'm quiet on the drive back to the senior center, feeling disconcerted and more than a little unsettled by today's lunch out. As I stare at the blond curls on the back of the man's head in front of me, I softly click my tongue against my teeth, my thoughts tumbling over and over in my head. There's a noticeable shift in his demeanor, and for the life of me, I can't fathom why. Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I glance out the window, not really seeing anything because I'm so lost in thought. Ok, I have to admit, today he proved that, when he's _not_ being a cocky shithead spouting off bravado, he actually is at least capable of _pretending_ to be a gentleman. Witty, charming, and polite, he was the perfect mealtime companion at lunch. He didn't make one flirtatious remark. Not one. Nor did any of his comments smack of sexual innuendo either. And, apart from offering to help me in and out of the car, he kept his hands to himself. I just don't know what to think about this sudden about face in his behavior. Or the fact that he's not even attempting to be subtle about it with me.

I'm still mulling over all of this when we arrive back at the senior center. Shmi parks the car, and this time, I scramble to open my own door first, hopping out of the car before Anakin can even open his own door. Slinging my purse over my shoulder, I walk around the back of the vehicle and give my mother a quick hug. She takes the opportunity to whisper in my ear, "Be nice to him, Padmé. Just give him a chance…as a friend. For me?" She pulls back and smiles warmly at me, nodding her head before leaning over to kiss me on the cheek. "Bye, Sweetie. Enjoy the rest of your day. Love you."

"I'll try – but I can't promise anymore than that. And, I love you, too. I'll call you tomorrow, Mom," is all I say as I step back from my mother before smiling at Shmi and waving goodbye to her, "Bye, Shmi. Thanks for driving. Lunch was nice. I'll see you soon." Shmi calls out a pleasant goodbye to me and waves before hugging her son. Without even acknowledging Anakin, I pivot on my foot and briskly head across the parking lot to where my own car is parked.

I reach in my purse, grab my keys, hit the key fob, and I'm just opening the driver's side door when I hear, "Hey, Padmé! Wait up!" Closing my eyes at the warmth that spreads through my system once more at that silky smooth voice, I take a deep breath in before opening my eyes and slowly turning to see Anakin jogging over to my car.

Arching an eyebrow at him, I mask the effect he has on me by coolly asking, "Yes? What is it?"

Coming to a stop beside me, he smiles down at me, "I just wanted to thank you for coming to lunch with us today. I…I really enjoyed it." He continues to stare into my eyes, shoving his hands into his front pockets again.

Remembering my mother's correction earlier, I modulate my tone to keep my voice level and reply, "You're welcome. Thank you for paying for lunch. That was…thoughtful of you." I'm careful to keep my expression neutral. I'm admittedly still a little off kilter here, considering he's definitely _not_ acting like his usual self, and I'm not entirely sure how to handle this. Or, if I want to.

 _Oh, you want to handle hi-_ My inner voice starts up again. Determinedly shutting down that line of thought, I give myself a mental shake, realizing Anakin's speaking to me again. "-ice car you've got here. Red. Like your outfit today. It suits you." He's still grinning at me, and surprisingly, it's _not_ the smile of a man who's hoping to take a bite outta me.

Glancing over at my car, I nod before turning back to him, "Thanks. I like it. It drives well and gets good gas mileage."

He nods himself, and after another awkward moment of silence, I motion with my hand to my car, "Well, I better get going. I have class in an hour."

"Oh, yeah. Sure. I gotta get back to campus myself. Have to hit the library to do some research for an assignment before practice this afternoon."

His tone is practically amicable. Will wonders never cease?

"Yeah…well, I guess I'll see you in class tomorrow. Bye." I turn and slide into the driver's seat but before I can pull the door shut, Anakin is leaning down to smile at me, blocking me from closing the door.

"See you tomorrow, Padmé. Enjoy the rest of your day."

We simply stare into each other's eyes for a sec, and I swear, I feel like a current of electricity passes between us. Softly clearing my throat, my reply holds none of its usual oomph, "Yeah. You, too."

He gives me another small smile and steps back, reaching out to grab my door and closing it for me. I insert the key in the ignition and start my car. Putting on my seatbelt, I put the car in reverse, and glancing over at Anakin one last time, I back out of the parking spot, switch gears, and then head off toward the parking lot exit. Looking in the rear view mirror, I notice Anakin's not moved from where he still stands, hands in his front pockets, a grin on his face, as he continues to stare after my departing car.

Feeling a burst of pure pleasure at his focused attention, I chastise myself soundly for reacting to his charms, reminding myself that he's a player, that all he wants from me is a quick fuck. Then my mother's words drift back into my mind, _Now, his past behavior is what it is…it cannot be changed; however, that doesn't mean that the man himself cannot change, given the right impetus._ Frowning at that thought, I wonder… _Could_ Anakin change? Would it be possible? Do I even _want_ him to? As I make the turn I need to head toward campus, I shake off the thought, telling myself it's just too dangerous for me to find out. Only problem is, something tells me I'm going to find out just _how_ dangerous…one way or another. But then my eyes fly open wide and my mouth drops open as an unwanted shiver of anticipation overtakes me. And, I'm mortified to suddenly realize…

I can't wait to find out.


End file.
